Tackling Destiny
by BallinBlonde21
Summary: All Human Fanfic-NO VAMPS! Edward lives for football, nothing else.  What happens when football is torn from his life and replaced with a certain brown-haired, brown-eyed girl? I DO NOT OWN TWILIGHT OR ITS CHARACTERS...obviously, otherwise I'd be famous!
1. Chapter 1

_Here goes..._

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><p>He stood in the dark corridor, shivering as the crisp October air blew in from the open end of the concrete tunnel, wafting in the amazing and distinct scent of stadium brats and hotdogs. It brought with it the low hum of the chattering crowd waiting excitedly in the stands with their cardboard signs and foam fingers. Edward's helmet was balanced on his hip, fingers looped through the green face mask. The yellow paint was scratched and chipped with streaks of blue, purple, and red, all coming from the many tough hits he had suffered in his NFL career, each telling a separate story about a yardage gain or touchdown, each as unique as the next. He refused to allow them to scrub off his paint. He'd earned them and he wore the streaks proudly.<p>

Through the random splotches of other team's colors, the large encircled "G" was prominent on the side, telling the world that he served the Green Bay Packers, and only the Packers. He leaned against the cool gray wall, energy radiating through him as steady and constant as his own pulse, a part of him that has always been there. He lived for the adrenalin, for the rush of excitement that bombarded him the moment he stepped onto the field, the field where so many of his great heroes had stood, shedding their blood sweat and tears, tackling their way into five Superbowl wins. This was the field where Vince Lombardi, Bart Star, and Aaron Rodgers had staked claim to the coveted spots in the hearts and souls of the many devoted fans that cheered in the stadium, rain or shine, snow or hail. This was Lambeau Field, home of great names and devout fans.

He couldn't wait to sprint through the tunnel of cheerleaders, waving their pompoms around in a shine of green and gold, bouncing on their toes as their bubbly and excited voices cheered his name. He couldn't wait to feel the familiar pull of his cleats sticking into the perfectly trimmed green grass, couldn't wait to hear the thunderous roar of the crowd as they began chanting his name in unison, screaming out his number. He glanced downward at the white number 21 stitched perfectly onto his deep green mesh jersey pulled tightly over his shoulder pads. He ran his hand through his tangled auburn locks, trying to calm his nerves before the big game, centering himself, using his alone time to prep, to think. Edward needed this time, needed it to get everything else off his mind, and focus on just one thing: football.

Today, if he didn't leave one hundred and thirty percent on the field, the Packers would lose, and losing was worse than injury. They would be a laughingstock, something they hadn't been in over twenty years, especially not in the four years Edward had been on the team. He was twenty-two as of yesterday. He had been drafted straight from high school and was now the envy of every other team's wide receivers.

Today, the Packers played their arch enemies, the Minnesota Vikings. Clad in purple and gold, the Vikings were ready to pummel the Packers, kick butt and take names. He blinked his green eyes, squinting as he looked down the tunnel at the world outside, seeing the lush green grass awaiting the poking and prodding of cleats, awaiting the harsh impact of tackles and falls. He saw the cheerleaders stretching their long, glorious limbs before they began twisting and twirling their bodies in unimaginable ways, ways that Edward would dream about that night. He saw then new head security guard, brown-haired, brown-eyed Charlie Swan, standing at the mouth, lips pressed into a thin line beneath his shaggy mustache, arms crossed tightly across his chest, feet planted firmly in the ground, ready to stop intruders. Edward wiped his hand across his face.

"Edward!" he heard the coach, Billy Black, chastise him from inside the locker room. He was once again late, but what was Coach Black going to do, bench him? Edward smiled to himself, pulling on his form-fitted, personalized gloves—the best wide receiver in the NFL could only have the best of the best. The coach wasn't going to sit him. Edward was their best asset, the playmaker, the leader. There was no way he was going to sit on the bench.

His cleats clacked against the tiled floor, echoing loudly throughout the silent locker room, everybody's eyes on Edward. He smiled brilliantly, feeling Billy's menacing black eyes staring him down as he plopped backwards on the wooden bench next to Emmett Swan, his best friend on the football team. Emmett clapped him on the back, laughing at something in that hearty and throaty laugh of his. Edward dropped his gaze to his toes, slightly ashamed of his arrogant acts, but not ashamed enough to stop. He was better. Edward Cullen was better than all the other players, or at least, that was how he saw it. "Alright, men," Coach Black began, "this is it." Edward braced himself for the pep talk, the kind of pep talk that left the team more worried and frightened than pepped. "All your training comes into play here and now. If you don't leave a hundred and ten percent on that field today, the Vikings will have bragging rights. Do we want that?" A chorus of no sir's rang out among the players, sitting on the bench with their elbows on their knees, faces staring toward the coach whether they were listening or not.

One response was significantly louder than the others, in a deeper, more conceited voice. Edward forced himself to glance upwards, his eyes meeting the deep brown ones of the quarterback, Jacob Black. Jacob Black was the coach's son and the ultimate quarterback. He was quick and lean, able to shoot like an arrow whenever he was forced to run, yet he was built and able to throw Hail Mary passes down the field all day without any sort of strain on his arm. He was menacing, the anger flashing in his eyes during a game making him look like a tiger, and the other team's defense feel like pray. There was only one problem with Jake: He wouldn't throw Edward the ball unless he had to, which, to Edward's pleasure, was quite often, since Edward was the quickest, nimblest one on the team, able to juke his defenders left and right and fly into the end zone, usually without being touched. Usually. Jake's eyes were narrowed in his direction, undoubtedly angry at Edward for his absence, for holding the team up. Edward snorted quietly, knowing that if he had to, he could take Jacob down easily, one punch to the nose, and Jake would be begging for mercy, tan arms covering his face, catching the blood that oozed from his crooked and broken nose. One side of Edward's mouth pulled up into a smirk. He sickly pleased with that image running through his mind.

"Take it away, Jake," Billy concluded, and Edward realized he hadn't heard any of the pep talk. The team got up and gathered around Coach Black. Our faces were looking down in his direction. Billy was in a wheelchair, due to a football accident that had cut his career short and left him paralyzed, but he didn't let that stop him from living his dream of having a career in the NFL. Coach Black had become one of the top coaches in the NFL, rising to the top quickly and effectively. His team was his pride and joy, more so than his son was. Edward only knew that because it was something Jacob would often complain about. Coach Black spent hours upon hours watching game film and making up trick plays. Edward didn't think it was such devotion since Billy lived at home alone, his wife having died when Billy's children, Jake, Rebecca, and Rachel, were young. To Edward, Billy was just the living reminder of the danger they put themselves in every day. The risks may have scared some, but to Edward, the benefits of this far outweighed the hazards.

Football was his passion, his one true love. Sure, Edward had been with girls, lots of girls to be exact, but none of them even compared to the feeling he had when he was on the feel, ball in hand, sprinting headlong down the field toward the end zone, the roar of the crowd filling his ears as he crossed the line and continued, leaping into the stands, preferably next to cute girls, and felt their hands touching him, hearing them scream his name. Yep, for Edward, that was life, as close to living as it could come. He joined the huddle at the center of the locker room.

"Intensity on three!" Jacob yelled, the sweat already condensing on his forehead.

"One, two, three, INTENSITY!" the team called, following Jake's lead. They slapped each other on the back as they fastened their chin straps of their green and gold helmets, pounding each other's just to make sure they were on securely. Edward held his on his hip, waiting to feel the cool air breeze against his flushed face before putting it into the sauna that football teams called helmets. Emmett punched Edward on the shoulder.

"Good luck, bud," he said, grinning through his facemask. Edward touched his fist to the side of his friend's helmet.

"Just make sure you block for me this time, **not** accidentally tackle me," Edward chuckled as Emmett sighed and rolled his eyes.

"One time, man. One time," he complained. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" They walked into the dark tunnel, the air blowing in from the far end, which was open for the team to run out of.

"Nope," Edward grinned as he pulled his helmet onto his head, not bothering to hook the chinstrap like the rest of the team because he knew they would be taking them off soon after for the Star Spangled Banner. He jogged up to the front by Jacob, looking straight ahead as the cheerleader's green and gold pompoms swirled in unison, making a tunnel for them to run through and then onto the glory of Lambeau Field. They halted just before exiting the tunnel, the cheer from the crowds nearly drowning out all sound, the helmets not helping with the problem

"Good luck, Jake," Edward called over the roar, sticking out his fist to the quarterback. Jake touched his against it lightly.

"Luck," he replied, "who needs luck?" With that, he sprinted out of the tunnel, tearing through the banner at the end, the crowd going crazy when they saw the number ten on his green jersey, calling out cheers for their quarterback. Edward laughed once, though it was more like a heavy exhale through his nose. Tapping against the top of his helmet out of ritual, he followed his suitor, earning an even louder howl from the crowd.

"Cullen, Cullen!" the fans chanted in unison, the thunderous impact reverberating through the whole stadium. Yup, this is what he lived for. He loved the glory, the fame, the reliance, and the responsibility. He loved it all, even the risks, the trials and tribulations, and the infamy. Everything.

He looked up into the stands of Lambeau field, seeing the mix of green, white, and gold covering two thirds of the stadium, and purple covering the rest. He smiled to himself, loving the back-country, Wisconsin hicks that always seemed to be in the front row, shirtless with their beer bellies painted, spelling out words. That day, they spelled "Cullen." Though in their drunken haze, they had switched some letters, spelling "Clueln." Edward pointed to them, and they cheered holding up their cups, sloshing smelly brown-yellow liquid all over themselves. He motioned to his stomach, watching as they looked downward, laughing when they realized they were mixed up. He watched them drunkenly stumble around each other, falling over their seats and their friends as they tried to squeeze their bellies around each other. They continued to guffaw at each other and trip until they spelled Cullen correctly.

He flashed them a double thumbs-up, knowing the whole ruckus had been played on the Jumbotron judging by the laughs emanating from the stands. He waited for the rest of his team to run out, before walking over to their bench with them.

As they lined up for the National Anthem, Edward felt Emmett's hot breath on his neck. "Eddie," Emmett sang from behind him. Edward jabbed his elbow backwards.

"Shut up, Em. I hate that name."

"I'm getting you ANGRY!" he bellowed, curling his fingers up like a mad scientist. "I'm helping your game."

"The only thing that could help my game would be you shutting up and listening to our countries song." Emmett laughed, and he and Edward removed their helmets, putting their hands over their hearts, one of Coach's rules. Edward's head faced forward, but in his peripherals, he eyed Christina Aguilera, who was singing that day. He'd probably get with her, if she wasn't married. As rule of thumb, Edward never broke up relationships, having experienced his father's failed marriage firsthand, though Carlisle Cullen was once again happily married to a pretty brown-haired lady named Esme Hale. Edward wiped a drip of sweat from his forehead as the song came to a close.

"Are you ready to rumble?" the announcer called the famous phrase over the loud speaker. The crowd roared. Edward's twin sister, Alice waved enthusiastically at him from across the field, decked out in her green and gold cheering uniform. Her normally short, dark hair had extensions in it so she could meet the ponytail tied up in a sparkly ribbon standard among the cheerleaders. Next to her, his step-sister Rosalie Hale, who was a year older than him, smiled up at the stadium seats, probably thinking they had come to see her. Edward rolled his green eyes, offering Alice a slight wave, more of a hand twitch, in return. She pouted, but quickly wiped away the frown, cheering wildly with the rest of the group, figures she'd be the captain. No one could be peppier than Alice, not even with five energy drinks and seventeen cups of coffee. Alice wasn't even allowed to drink coffee, not as long as she was in the apartment below me. Edward would sometimes hear strange knocks sounding from the floor of his penthouse apartment, only to find out Alice decided she need to change her entire décor of her own apartment at three in the morning. He pulled his helmet back on as Jake gathered them into the huddle. "Alright guys, they kick off." He turned to the special teams players, "Start us out strong, boys. We'll bring it home."

The team clapped, saying, "Break," in perfect synchronization. Edward sat back onto the bench next to Emmett, waiting until it was his turn to be on the field. The refs handed the ball to the other team. "God," Emmett said quietly beside him, "everything is so different this year."

The bronze haired boy looked at him, "Like what?" Emmett gave Edward a sidelong glance.

"You blind, bro?" he asked. His voice was surprisingly serious. Edward shrugged. "Well, for starters, Jake." Jake was a rookie quarterback, straight from Ole Miss, though everybody knew he'd be high in the draft, top ten, only because Coach Black was his father. Edward nodded, not seeing how that was different. "Then, Chuck's missing," he continued. Chuck was the head security guard last year, but he was replaced by Emmett's dad, Charlie, after he was killed saving a player from a bullet a crazy Vikings' fan was trying to put in his head.

"Good-for-nothing, psycho fans," Edward muttered.

"Amen, brother." Emmett said, raising his arms to the heavens. "Then, there's my sister, who's the new—" He was cut off by the coach screaming for them to go in. Edward looked out at the situation on the field, sort of mad at himself that he hadn't been paying attention and had to be reminded to go in. Special teams had returned it to the fifty yard line. Piece of cake. Mentally shunning himself, Edward jogged onto the field next to Emmett, stopping in his position. Emmett nodded and went to his position on the line, smiling menacingly at the Viking stationed across from him. The team had decided they'd go no huddle this game, to spice it up. They lined up, the linemen's hands out in front of them, heads bowed, ready to protect their quarterback from whatever came at him. Edward had one foot forward, waiting for the snap, ready to sprint, already calculating where the defense would be covering. And where they wouldn't. "Left, fifty-two," Jake called, or at least, that's what Edward thought he called. His voice was nearly inaudible, the fans far too noisy for any sense to be made of his words. "Left, fifty-two," he heard again.

The ball was snapped, placed firmly in Jake's hands, laces line up with his fingers, ready for the throw. Edward waited long enough for Jake to drop back into the pocket, eye scanning the field in the spot the play should have opened up. The play had failed miserably, the Vikings' defense covering every opening. Time was running short, but Edward was already off, shooting down the field like a flaming arrow, untouchable by the defense. He saw Jacob see him, think for a split second, and then send the ball flying toward him. This is what usually happened. The play wouldn't work, and Edward would sprint down the field, getting the ball, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the distance between Edward and the end zone. Edward caught the pigskin, cradling it to his chest as if it were a delicate baby as he ran down the field, the end zone becoming nearer and nearer.

He was the only one down the field, nearing the ten yard line as he ran with the wind whipping into his face and through his hair, stinging his eyes and whooshing in his ears. He didn't stop though. He picked up speed, not content with this mediocre pace. The first play of the game was going to end in a touchdown, whether it was going to be an easy one or not. Edward tucked the ball securely under his arm, ducking his head so he could run faster, be in the end zone quicker. He crossed the line, dropping the ball and throwing his arms up in the air as the refs blew their whistles, signaling the touchdown. As the rest of his team shuffled into position for the extra point field gola, Edward prepared for the traditional Lambeau Leap, scouting out the cutest girls in the crowd, hoping the Bikini Girls were back. Ah, there they were. He'd spotted them and began running toward them, when _smack_! He was suddenly on the ground on his side, grass scratching his face, cleats in his groin, shoulder screaming in agonizing pain. He felt loopy, disoriented. He blinked his eyes, trying to remember what had happened. The blue sky loomed above him with whimsical, wispy clouds floating in the breeze. Wait, hadn't the girls just been there? His head was throbbing, heart hammering in his chest, leaping up into his throat. Something shifted atop him, and Edward cringed away, squeezing his eyes shut.

Regaining his composure, he opened them, gasping quietly. Hovering above him was a smiling Vikings player, his lips forming words that Edward couldn't hear, his white teeth glowing brightly, singeing Edward's eyes. Edward flinched, wanting nothing more than to jump into the stands and allow those girls to touch him, wanting the pain in his head to disappear, the ach in his shoulder to feel better. Emmett came quickly and pulled the football player wearing purple off of him. Edward's vision was so swirly and blurry that he didn't even catch a number. He tried to roll onto his back, but his shoulder protested.

"Argh!" he cried, clamping the hand of his uninjured arm around his shoulder, trying to brace it so he could at least get up. Emmett crouched down beside him a look of sympathy crossing his familiar face.

"Don't force yourself, man," he said, his amber eyes tinged with sadness. "Can't have our best receiver too hurt for the rest of the season." Hurt for the season? Edward couldn't comprehend not playing football. He couldn't fathom life without the brown ball, the field goals and end zones, or even his team. What would he do? How would he live? He tried again to sit up, realizing his shoulder wasn't going to allow him. Emmett stood up swiftly, turning around and cupping his hands around his mouth. "Bells!" he called loudly across the field. The fans had hushed into a nervous chatter. A few Get up, Edward's could be heard being yelled from the stands. He could imagine the people gawking at him, staring at him in sympathy. Edward hated sympathy about as much as he currently hated the Vikings. Edward tried to lift his head just enough to see who Emmett was talking to, but that put too much pressure on his shoulders, too much to bear.

"Argh!" he groaned again in frustration. He heard footsteps near him, saw delicate feet sprinting toward him. He heard the soft whoosh of grass as the foot was lifted and then the nearly inaudible thud as it was set down again. He saw green sweatpants with the Packer's emblem on them.

Then, a head leaning over him filled his vision. He saw a delicate heart-shaped face. It was framed with milky brown hair that was pulled back into a tight ballet bun at the nape of her neck. Her doe-like eyes were chocolate brown, her thin pink lips turned into a frown of concentration. Edward wanted to look away, wanted to forget about the injury, tell her to get away, but he couldn't. Her face had him in a trance. His eyes were frozen as they stared into hers, which were focused on his shoulder. Her cold hand smoothly pulled the chinstrap of his helmet loose and gently lifted his head, sliding the suffocating helmet off. Edward blinked again, the slight movement making him woozy.

She looked over her shoulder, barking a few orders at people behind her. Well, barking wasn't exactly the right word. She more told people to do things in a firm, angelic voice. It reminded him slightly of music. A strand of her long brown hair fell loose and tickled Edward's angular, white nose. He wanted so badly to push it away, but he feared that if he moved either arm, he might fall apart. She turned back to him. "Can you move?" she asked, her voice turning worried. She quickly disguised it with a small, girly cough. Edward nodded, determined to stand up and get off the field, before becoming completely humiliated by his injury. Before, he had thought that losing was worse than injury, but now, he wasn't so sure.

The girl reached down a small, frail hand to help him up, but he brushed it away with his own pale hand. "I'm fine," he protested, grunting as he painfully stumbled to his feet, only to be overcome with dizziness. "Dang equilibrium," Edward cursed quietly, as Emmett caught him by the armpits. The trainer had a bemused look on her face. "What?" Edward asked, hand still gripping his shoulder. Emmett set him back up, poised and ready in case he fell again.

"Dang?" she snorted. Edward realized she was a few inches shorter than him with a petite frame and a creamy, white complexion. She had on Packer's sweats, white tennis shoes, and a t-shirt that had "Assistant Trainer" written on it.

"I don't cuss," he replied through gritted teeth, taking the anger of his injury out on the poor trainer.

"Whatever you say, big scary football player," she cooed in a baby voice, undeterred by his tone of voice. Edward felt as if he was having his cheeks pinched by his great-aunt Lucille by the way she was talking to him. Edward took a step forward, but it turned into another drunken stumble. Emmett caught him again.

"Dude, you look pretty banged up," he said, steadying Edward. "Go with my sister. She'll fix you up real good."

"Yeah? Maybe you should go with her and get your English fixed." Edward looked at Emmett, seeing his dark black hair and amber eyes. "Wait, did you say, 'sister'?" Emmett nodded solemnly, gesturing toward each of them with his big, calloused hands.

"Bella, meet Edward. Edward, meet Bella."

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><p><em>You like? If so...Review? {For Vikings fans and Packer haters...just did the Packers so I could have the Lambeau Leap reference...sure do love me some Driver diving into the stands :)} Check out my Mortal Instruments Fanfic! (: All my Love~<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_UPDATE! Okay...This is what happened to Bella the morning of Edward's accident...Promise more Edward/Bella stuff next update, but we need to see the background of Bella too :D haha so here it is:_

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><p>Bella sat up in her bed and groggily wiped the remainder of sleep from her eyes. Her blinds were slightly ajar, casting slants of golden sunshine across her purple painted bedroom. Her sheets and blankets were twisted at the foot of her bed, and her hair was matted with sweat, both reminders of last night's nightmare. She tried desperately to comb her fingers through her long, brown locks, but with no avail, she sighed and stood up, smoothing out her purple, plaid pajama bottoms and tank top. She twisted her hair into a sloppy bun and checked the clock. It was eight o'clock in the morning. Groaning, she marched down the stairs, mumbling to herself that it was way too early for any sane person to be awake on a Saturday morning. Apparently, her father wasn't sane either.<p>

She slid down the hallway in her fuzzy socks, the stench hitting her nose as soon as she reached the wooden archway that opened to the kitchen. Her father stood at the stove, an apron tied around his security uniform. He had a frying pan over the open gas flame, and the aroma of burnt bacon filled the room, making Bella's already queasy stomach churn. "Morning, Bells!" he greeted cheerfully as she sat down at her designated chair around the table. He abandoned his disastrous meat just long enough to plop a bowl of lumpy, discolored oatmeal in front of Bella. Bella returned his greeting while tugging her spoon free from the odd substance. "What's the matter?" A look of concern crossed her father's wrinkled and aged face.

She couldn't help but let the fact that she was twenty-two and lived with her father cross her mind. Not that she minded the small lakefront home with its blue shutters and linoleum tiles. She liked the wallpapered walls and the dated appliances. She loved the memories she'd had in this home, but she couldn't help but feel she needed to move on. Not that she'd ever admit that to her father.

"Just nervous," she settled on as an excuse. This was true. It was her first day at a new job, a big job. She was the new assistant trainer for the Green Bay Packers, and she was worried that she would not do well enough and get fired. Bella was always worrying like that. She cast her eyes down to her bowl, where she was swirling her spoon around and around in the strange gluey oatmeal trying to make it somewhat smooth and edible. She choked it down, trying to keep a straight face as to not let her father see that she did not like his cooking. Bella was usually the one who cooked, but for some reason, Charlie decided it was his time to reciprocate.

"Don't worry, baby girl. The guys are really cool," he told her, buying her lie. Bella had never been a good liar, her voice usually cracking as she tried to spit out the untruthful words, or her chocolate eyes giving her away. For Bella, the saying, "The eyes are the gateway to the soul," was one hundred percent true. "Plus, Emmett's on the team." Bella smiled, thinking about her big brother's dark hair and amber eyes. He had the same creamy complexion as Bella and Charlie, but he was much wilder than them, much more adventurous. Emmett had moved out about a year ago, buying his own apartment. He usually came to visit every morning, the only exception being game days, like today. She looked at the clock, realizing it was nearly eight o'clock. She dropped her spoon to the table with a clatter, wiping her fingers against her pant legs and shoving her chair away from the table.

"Gotta go get ready!' she called over her shoulder as she sprinted up the stairs, slamming the bathroom door behind her. Her reflection in the mirror showed her the effects the sleepless night had taken on her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her hair wiry and lifeless. She groaned aloud, pressing her palms to the edge of the sink. Why couldn't she just be naturally beautiful? One of those girls who could roll out of bed and go straight to her boyfriend's house. "I don't have a boyfriend," she reminded her reflection. Their lips moved in perfect synchronization, their eyebrows forming a concentrated crease between their milky eyes. She sighed and reached for her toothbrush, scrubbing away any last trace of that horrendous breakfast. After she spit the last of the minty bubbles down the sink, she twisted the shower on full blast and hopped in.

She immediately jumped back out. "Let the water warm up, _then_ get in," she reprimanded herself. She paced around the small bathroom with white linoleum and tiled walls for a minute, muttering unintelligible things to herself, obviously concerned about her first day. Finally, steam rolled over the top of the shower curtain, and she jumped in excitedly, letting the hot water droplets roll down her back and wash the tangles out of her hair. She scrubbed her hands over her smooth face, trying to let all of her nervousness swirl down the drain with the dirty water. After sitting in the water for ten minutes just to get her breathing back in order, she stepped out and wrapped herself in a fuzzy towel. She glanced again at her reflection in the mirror, her hair damp and clinging to her shoulders, her eyes clear and no longer red. She smiled to herself and peeked outside the door, checking to see that Charlie wasn't around. When the coast was clear, she sprinted to her room and dropped the towel to the floor with a soft whooshing sound. She tugged on her Green Bay Packer sweats and t-shirt that read "Assistant Trainer" across the front in big, capitol letters. She laced up her white tennis shoes and grabbed her purse, checking to make sure her old flip-phone was in there and charged.

"Bye, Dad!" she called as she headed out the door. She heard her father's footsteps thundering down the stairs.

"Hey, Bells. I was just heading in. You want a ride?" Charlie worked as the new head security guard for the Packers, since the last one died in some freak gun shooting. Bella sighed, knowing he meant well, but she really didn't want to be seen riding in her father's car on her first day of work.

"I'm just gonna take the bus," she said quickly. "Angela and I planned to meet on there this morning." _Smooth save, Bella_, she mentally complimented herself. Charlie nodded and turned back toward the kitchen. Bella opened a window in the hallway, hoping to have some of the stench aired out by the time she got home later that night. She jogged quickly to the bus stop and sat on the bench, dialing her brother's number.

"You know who this is. Leave a message, and I'll decided if I wanna talk to you or not. Emmett, out!" She laughed at his voicemail, but clicked off, knowing the missed call would be enough to get Emmett on the phone. She gazed lazily up at the sky, watching the clouds play blissfully in the wind while she waited for the bus to round the corner. She heard it before she saw it. The engine puttered loudly down the street, coming to a screeching stop in front of Bella. She hopped skillfully up the steps and dropped her change into the bucket with a clatter. Her eyes scanned the seats for her friend but met something more repulsive first.

"Hey, Bella!" Mike Newton called happily, patting the seat next to him. Bella offered him a small smile and kept searching for Angela. When their eyes met, Bella gratefully headed toward her friend. "Bella?" Mike's voice rose into a high-pitched question as she passed him and plopped down to Angela. There was only so much of an annoying Mike she could take, and she had met that quota back in high school. After the big mistake she'd made, she'd never go back to him again.

"Hey, Ang," Bella breathed as she searched through the purse on her lap for some chap stick. Angela looked at Bella, wearing the exact same sweats. They had on nearly the same outfit except Angela's t-shirt just said, "Trainer."

"You okay, Bella?" she asked sympathetically. "You look like crap."

"Gee…" Bella said, drawing out the e's. "Thanks."

"I'm serious, Bella. Are you okay?" Bella was just about to reply with a yes when the bus lurched forward, and Bella's stomach decided it wanted to stay behind. She groaned and gripped her tummy as it did flips.

"Just butterflies," she said through deep breaths. Angela quirked an eyebrow but decided against further questioning. Angela pulled out her new iPhone and began scanning through her Facebook page. Bella peeked over her shoulder. "Ew! You added my brother?" Angela laughed and pointed a little lower on the screen. "You added both of my brothers?" Bella started to dry-heave while Angela began texting her boyfriend Ben. "How did you even know about Jasper?" she asked, looking around. Jasper was Bella's half brother, same mother but different father. He'd been born to Renee and Phil after Charlie and Renee split up. He was in psychology school way down in the southern part of Texas and rarely came to visit, claiming the back-country Wisconsin hicks ruined his vibe.

"I have my sources," she said creepily as she pushed her glasses up farther on her nose. Bella giggled and decided she should text Jazz. He seemed to have a special knack for making the nervous feelings in her stomach disappear. She began punching out a message on the number keys of her out-of-date cell phone, angrily trying to type faster, becoming annoyed when she accidentally passed the exclamation point six times.

"Gah, I give up!" she said exasperatedly as she tossed her phone back into her purse. Angela nudged her as the bus came to another one of its deafening stops.

"We're here," she said quietly, standing up and following Bella down the bus aisle and through the staff entrance to Lambeau field. They walked to the medical room and plopped down on the white chairs. The room smelled so much like sterilizer that Bella thought she might pass out. "Alright," Angela cracked her knuckles in preparation. "First we have to get the first aid kit put together." She bustled around the room and started throwing seemingly random supplies into a large black tote. Bella stood up and placed a few things like gauze and band-aids into the bag. Angela rolled her eyes. "Sit back down, Bella. I have a system." Bella did as she was told, pouting in the plastic, uncomfortable chair as Angela finished filling the bag, neatly and efficiently. The game was at noon, so Bella and Angela only had two hours to get the team ready for the game.

"Alright," Angela said after checking the contents of the bag for the third time. Bella wondered why they didn't just come to the room when something was needed. "Let's wrap wrists and ankles," she said cheerfully clapping her hands together. Bella nodded, and Angela handed her a roll of white tape. She followed Angela to the team locker room, freezing before she went through the door. "What?"

"We, we can't go in there," she stuttered, pointing toward the locker room. "What if they're changing?" Bella's eyes widened in fright, and Angela laughed.

"A stranger to the male anatomy, I see," she said, making Bella flush a deep red. Angela laughed harder, doubling over and chuckling toward the ground. Regaining her composure, she stood up and walked into the locker room, towing Bella with her. "Don't worry, they're already changed," she paused before adding, "probably." Bella splayed her fingers across her eyes just in case. She heard Angela squeal and removed her hands just in time to be lifted off the ground and twirled around in a big bear hug.

"Bells!" boomed a familiar, deep voice. Bella was being shaken like a ragdoll, but she couldn't help but smile at her big brother.

"Missed you this morning, Em." Emmett put her down and faced her.

"Game day, silly girl." Bella smiled and nodded, twirling the roll of athletic tape around her finger. "Come meet the team!" He gestured with a sweeping arm toward the large group of even larger boys gathered in a circle, sitting on benches. Bella stepped into view of the other players, and a round of catcalls and low whistles broke out. "This is baby sister, Bella," Emmett introduced her excitedly. He pointed to each individual player and said their name. "This is Paul, and that's Quil, and Embry." He then pointed to a familiar face, with charmingly boyish features and a dark tan. His dark brown hair was clipped close to his scalp. "That's Jacob, but you already know him." Bella offered a small wave, but Jacob beamed up at her. She was whirled away from his glowing smile and introduced to the rest of the team. "Hey, where's Eddie?" Emmett asked loudly. A few mumbled, "I don't knows," were heard as replies. Emmett sighed. "Whatever. Alright, assistant trainer, hop to it, or I'll have to report you for laziness." He winked and went back to joking around with his teammates. Bella returned dutifully to Angela's side, who was gaping at all the boys.

"A stranger to the male anatomy, I see," Bella whispered to her in a soft voice. Angela coughed, trying to hide her blush. Bella smiled, twisting her hair into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She walked over to Emmett, who was calling for her and holding out his wrist like he wanted her to kiss it. "Yeah?" She was using her you're-my-brother-and-I'm-not-your-slave tone, the one most sisters use when their brother asks them to get them food. Emmett smiled.

"Wrap my wrist?" Emmett held out his bruised wrist and waited, his eyes wide and alert as he monitored the way the players were looking at his sister. Bella saw that he might snap soon, so she wrapped his wrist firmly and quickly knowing he had hurt it pretty badly a few games ago, enough that she'd lived with him for a week and had become his own personal maid. She smiled and patted his hand before fixing up the rest of the team with Angela.

Fourteen wrists, and twenty-four ankles later, Bella and Angela waited in the cafeteria lunch line, Bella's stomach noisily reminding her she had skipped breakfast that morning. She flushed a deep crimson whenever someone looked at her while her stomach bubbled and flipped. She piled her tray with fruit and a burger, following Angela to a small table at the center of the room. Angela sipped her Diet Coke while Bella scarfed down the delicious smelling burger in two bites, then continued to wolf down the rest of her meal. "Whoa there, girl," Angela said as if Bella was a horse, "you're food's not going anywhere." Bella blushed again, dropping her gaze to the table and chewing her extremely large bite for a long time before finally swallowing.

"So, now what?" Bella asked, looking at her friend.

"Well, the game's at noon, so we have to be out there—" Angela checked her watch, twisting her freckled wrist, "—Now, let's go." Angela grabbed her tray and dumped it in the trash as Bella followed to suit, rushing out of the cafeteria and onto the field where the trainers sat with all of their medical equipment. "Okay," Angela began explaining as Bella took in the amazing roar of the fans, the alluring scent of stadium brats and hotdogs, the whoops and hollers from the cheerleaders, prancing around in their skimpy outfits. Bella was completely in awe, and loving every second of it.

"Bella. Bella, focus!" Angela snapped, swatting her arm. Bella nodded and reluctantly turned her gaze back to Angela. "So, we basically just sit here and do nothing until A) A player is hurt or B) The game is over. Got it?" Bella nodded again, helping Angela prep their station for the game.

A little while later, a thunderous scream echoed through the stands, not one person's scream, but thousands in unison. Bella watched a football player emerge from the tunnel of swirling pompoms created by the cheerleaders. A big number twenty-one was visible on his jersey, but Bella couldn't read his last name. She tried to remember Emmett introducing her to a number twenty-one, but realized most of the guys had either been shirtless or dressed in Under Armour.

She pulled her gaze away from the football players after Emmett emerged from the tunnel and sat down on the bench next to Angela, who was staring longingly at her cameraman boyfriend. Bella punched her lightly on the arm. "Huh, did you say something?" she asked, dazed. Bella shook her head, her brown hair falling into her eyes and covering the small, sad smile playing on her lips. She hadn't had a boyfriend since Mike Newton, since the mistake. She rested her elbows on her knees and watched the players trot into a huddle, heads bowed as the quarterbacks whispered things to their teams.

She was on autopilot as she stood up and listened to Christina Aguilera's amazing voice belt out the National Anthem. She was barely aware of the goings on of the kick off, merely seeing players run up the field as her memory drifted back to her senior year in high school at the graduation party when Mike Newton kissed her, held her close, so close… Angela yelling her name broke her out of her daydreams. Rushing onto the field, Bella saw a player lying on the ground, grunting in pain. Bella jogged out toward the man, noticing how enticing his legs looked in those tight, yellow football pants. She mentally slapped herself, forcing herself to snap out of it. Angela was a good fifty feet behind her, so Bella hovered above the player, seeing it was the same number twenty-one that had earned a thunderous applause just for walking out of the locker room.

She reached down and lifted his helmet off, careful of his neck. She gasped when she saw his glorious green eyes, clear like the sky, deep like the ocean. His auburn hair was long and tangled, and Bella immediately clenched her hand into a fist, forcing herself to resist the urge to reach out and twist her delicate fingers into it.

"Can you move?" she asked, taken aback by the worry in her voice. She coughed, wincing when it came out high-pitched and quiet. The boy nodded, and Bella reached her hand out to him, but he brushed it away indifferently with his pale hand.

"I'm fine," he said hoarsely, placing his hands beneath him for support. Bella waited as he grunted and stood to his feet, the roar of a clapping crowd nearly drowning out his words as he fell backward. "Dang equilibrium," the man cursed as Emmett caught him by the armpits. Bella couldn't hide her amusement as a small giggle escaped her lips. "What?" Emmett set him back on his feet, but the boy still seemed pretty woozy.

"Dang?" Bella snorted, on the verge of hysterics.

"I don't cuss," the boy spat angrily, fierceness flashing through his eyes. Bella couldn't help but be sarcastic. Having grown up with the constant teasing of her older brothers, teasing was her go-to defense tool.

"Whatever you say, big scary football player," she smiled, talking to him as if he were a small child. The boy's face reddened as Emmett stared intensely at the boy's shoulder. The boy took a drunken step, stumbling straight into Emmett's awaiting arms.

"Dude," Emmett grunted, heaving the boy back to his feet, "you look pretty banged up. Go with my sister. She'll fix you up real good." Edward barked a forced laugh, smiling a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah? Maybe you should go with her and get your English fixed." It seemed sarcasm was one of the boy's defense tools also. Emmett nodded seriously, his gaze flicking toward Bella.

"Bella, meet Edward. Edward, meet Bella."

Bella nodded slightly at Edward and watched his teammates and coaches help him off the field and into the training station. She watched his retreating figure, following farther behind. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something different about Edward, something that intrigued her, something that she intended to find out.

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><p><em>Updated a little later than I had hoped, but hey an update is an update! (: so I don't hold off updates for reviews, but reviews still inspire me and such, so please press the awesome button down there and make me smile :D<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_New Chapter...I think it will go Edward, Bella, Edward, Bella etc. So this is Edward! Kinda short and Kinda a filler to get the story going, but here goes..._

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><p>. Edward's green eyes stared at the vast green field before him as he dug his toe into the water-logged ground, the rain having been pouring down constantly for two hours. The rest of the team had dispersed from the field nearly twenty minutes ago, and the stands were void of any life form besides the standard cleanup crew. Of course the Packers had won. There was no doubt in his mind that they would, but Edward was fuming, irate that he had to watch <em>his<em> backup catch _his_ passes and take _his _points. He had to watch _his_ team be cheered for by _his _fans while he sat on the trainer's bench being fussed over by the black-haired trainer wearing thick-rimmed glasses. The least they could have done was allowed him to sit by his team, but no, it was too much of a risk for him to walk. He ran a hand through his auburn locks, his shoulder protesting all the while. He scuffed his cleat against the grass, lifting up the green strands and revealing the fertile soil found beneath all of Lambeau Field.

. He hated that Vikings' player that had hit him. James was the name he had been told. _James what? _he wondered to himself as he watched the gray clouds pour cold droplets all over Wisconsin. He was still dressed in his jersey, his warm up jacket draped over his shoulders. He wanted to punch something, but his arm wouldn't allow it. His shoulder hurt so much he hadn't even been able to put on his own jacket. He stomped across the field, the field where so many idols' stories had begun, so many legends had stood, and so many had been hurt, injured like him. The ground sank beneath his feet, water seeping up around his shoes and squeaking as he walked briskly to the tunnel, keeping his head ducked, partly because of the rain, but mostly because of his frustration with himself. The click of his cleats echoed through the vacant tunnel as he booked it into the locker room, knowing most of his team had left to go celebrate their win.

. Oh, he had been invited, of course, but he didn't want to party because of someone else's win, didn't want to celebrate a victory that wasn't truly his. Edward was arrogant, prideful. He only cared about people as long as he looked good doing it. His nostrils were flared as he angrily tried to pull his jersey over his head. Having successfully pulled his good arm out of the whole, he ducked his head out of it and slipped it down his good arm, which hung limply at his side. He had refused the sling, refused the ice, refused any treatment at all. He knew that treatment meant that the coach would have thought he couldn't play and that he would have been benched. _I was benched, though_, he thought, remembering the Coach McCarthy's face as he neared Edward. The coach's expression was a mix of shock and fear, probably knowing without Edward, the Packers wouldn't be able to crush the Vikings. Coach McCarthy had known then and there that it was going to be a close game. And a close game it proved to be. They were down by six when Jacob threw that Hail Mary pass down to Paul, Edward's backup.

. Paul had bobbled it, nearly dropping it as he stepped into the end zone, and Edward couldn't help but think that the Packers would have never been in that situation if Paul hadn't dropped nearly ten passes that day, if Edward had been the one on the field, if Paul had been the injured one. Their kicker then sent the ball through the goal posts for the extra point, bringing the Packers home a victory. "Stupid," he growled angrily at himself as he tugged off his tight football pants using his good arm. If he hadn't been so shallow, if he'd just jumped into the crowd without worrying he'd jump into someone ugly, he would have been well. He'd have been able to play. He would have been able to take his own clothes off himself right now. He pulled on his black Nike sweats and pulled his jacket over his bare chest, not bothering to mess with the huge fuss of trying to get a t-shirt on would become. He dug through his green bag, looking feverishly for the key to his dark Lincoln Navigator. He began cursing as he heard the locker room door close, thinking someone had stolen his keys.

. "Hey," a female voice purred into his ear. He knew that voice all too well. He didn't turn as her hot breath snaked down his neck, making the blond hairs on his arms stand straight up in fear and nervousness. He didn't need to look to see it was Tanya Denali, with her straight blonde hair and sneaky blue eyes, with her pursed lips and long nose, with the beauty mark placed just above her thick red lips. He heard a jingle as she twirled what presumably were his car keys around her perfectly manicured finger tips. He was frozen in place, not even moving as her hand moved in front of his green eyes, showing his sleek keys dripping from a crimson lacquered nail. "You want these?" she asked seductively, and Edward immediately knew she was after something, something that would cause his shoulder and mental moral a lot of pain.

. "Tanya," he sighed, trying to snatch the keys from her finger. She snapped her hand around them, yanking them out of reach.

. "Ah, ah, ah!" she sang, a smile playing on her rather large mouth. "I'm your ride home." Edward groaned inwardly, hating that he was being babied by everyone. It was as if he couldn't do anything himself, as if he wasn't capable of doing the things he did on a daily basis.

. "I'm perfectly fine driving myself home, thank you." His voice was calm as he rejected her offer and reached for his keys with his good hand. They were out of the reach of his left hand, so he tried to grab them with his right hand, groaning in pain as he moved his shoulder. Tanya giggled, happy with her game of keep away.

. When Edward's finger finally brushed the cool metal, Tanya's face fell, but soon lifted into a sly smile. To Edward's dismay, Tanya lifted the keys high into the air, as if she was an older child taunting a shorter kid with a ball too high for him to reach. Shocking Edward, she dropped them into her mouth, smiling as she swirled her tongue around them. Edward suppressed a gag.

. "Ow, oo gaah eeh em ow?" Her words were torn apart by the metal flashing inside her mouth. Edward lifted his hand as he tried to shuffle around her.

. "You know what? Never mind," he dodged her outstretched arms. "I'll walk." She spit the keys into her palm and spun them around her index finger.

. "Eddie, you know you want to." Her tongue poked out to like her lips as Edward stared at the saliva covered keys. Edward hated her pet name for him. Edward couldn't find words strong enough to express how much he didn't want to, how much the past few times had been a mistake, so he just stayed silent, eyeing the slick keys in her hands, biting back acidic comments threatening to burst from his lips. Edward had met Tanya in a bar about three years ago, and after he had taken her home, she'd become obsessed with him, trying to get to him every chance she got.

. "Trying to seduce an injured player and getting shot down is not good for your ego, Tanya," he said blatantly, grabbing his keys from her hands and wiping them clean against his sweats. He slipped out the door while a shocked Tanya stood whimpering in the middle of the locker room, an oddity among the large lockers and metal ice baths.

. The parking lot was vacant, except for his car and the security guard, who greeted him and asked how he was feeling. "I'm fine, thank you," Edward replied, his tone blasé. He chirped the car unlocked and slid into the smooth leather of the front seat, running his fingers over the soft leather covering the steering wheel. His Lincoln was his baby, his first major spend of his NFL career. The security waved him through as Edward took to the streets of Green Bay, driving with his left hand in order to not disturb his right shoulder. Miles of road disappeared under the hood of his car as the radio played absently, filling the lonely silence of the car.

. Edward's mind was racing, thinking about whether or not he'd be able to play next week, whether or not his collarbone was broken. He was thinking about Emmett's sister, Bella. He had taken enough Spanish to know that the name meant _beauty_. But was she beautiful? Edward's taste consisted of curvier, model types with the standard blonde hair and blue eyes, not the milky brown waves that cascaded down Bella's shoulders, not the chocolate-colored eyes that had looked at Edward with so much concern. He slapped those thoughts away, connecting his iPod to his car and cranking up "99 Problems" by Jay Z, swearing to make it his new anthem. He pulled into the driveway of his countryside mansion about an hour later, happy when the gates swung open, happily awaiting his arrival.

. His house was made of stone blocks, stacked in colors of blue-gray, cream, and gray. The roof was shingled with gray tiles and loomed three stories with an oak tree in the front yard rivaling its height. It was his second big purchase of his NFL career. His doorman greeted him as he pulled up to the sidewalk. Throwing the car into park, he slid out and walked into his house, wanting nothing more than to call his buddies and have an all-night Xbox party. His plans were shot down as he opened his door and was immediately bombarded by his step-mother, cooing over his shoulder and asking how he was feeling.

. "Are you sure you don't want to sit down, darling?" she asked, concern flashing through her light amber eyes. Edward shook his head, standing in the entryway awkwardly, the chandelier flooding light over the room. He slid his shoes off and pressed his feet into the thick Persian rug, waiting for a bomb to be dropped.

. "Son," his father, Carlisle, looked at Edward with the same, clear green eyes. His light blond hair was combed perfectly, completing the dreamy doctor style his father was famous for. "We believe that you need someone to…look after you while you recover, you know, cook, clean, get the bills. Just simple things that will make your recovery process less painful." Edward's jaw dropped as he looked at his father. Carlisle of all people should understand how much Edward valued his independence. Carlisle had been emancipated when he was sixteen, not wanting to continue to live under his father's roof and play by his father's roof.

. "But, Dad!" he complained as if he were fourteen again. His eyebrows knit together in anger as he tried to dissect the meaning behind his father wanting someone to take care of him. He couldn't come up with anything, so he continued to glare at his father.

. "No buts, Edward," Esme piped up, her face flushed. Edward's green eyes met her amber ones, and he immediately dropped his gaze, slightly ashamed of himself. "She's just going to stay at your house until you can play again."

. "You just wanna make sure I don't do anything stupid," he retorted, earning a nod from his father.

. "You are correct," Carlisle muttered, looking toward the oak archway that lead to Edward's state-of-the-art, never-been-used kitchen. Edward's eyes widened as they connected with a set of chocolate brown irises belonging to a girl standing shyly in the kitchen, her expression unsure. "So no more complaining." Carlisle's voice was muted by the blood thundering in Edward's ears as his heart began hammering twenty times faster in his chest.

. "I'm not complaining," he muttered. And he wasn't, not anymore.

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><p><em>So...Review? <strong>Five more reviews on <span>My Love Is Basketball<span> and you get a bonus scene, so hop to it! :)**_


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry for the late, late, late update. Life has been psycho, and I totally didn't know what to do with this chapter, so here's what I got...there may be another one up tonight if you inspire me with happiness *wink wink* :) Enjoy!_

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><p>Bella stood in the cool gray tunnel, drinking in the sight of Edward. She knew she shouldn't let herself be attracted to him, that she'd only get hurt time and time again, but she just couldn't help herself. He had an air of mystery, the look of angst, the carefree smile that just made her knees shake, her heart flutter, and stomach flip. She, Bella Swan, was falling for the most unattainable male life from residing on planet Earth, and yet, she was okay with it. She saw his wet jersey clinging to his body as the rain poured over him. It traced the defined lines of his hard abdomen, and Bella suddenly felt faint. She wrenched her gaze away from the boy and started down the tunnel, fixing her bun as she walked. "Ah, Bella, there you are," a male voice greeted.<p>

"Coach Black," she replied, nodding her head to the dark man in a wheelchair. He stopped rolling and slammed down his brakes. Removing his cowboy hat, Bella saw his hair, grown salt-and-pepper with age. "Did you need something?" She blinked her eyes, adjusting to the darkness found farther inside the tunnel. Billy nodded.

"I need you to stay with Edward for the next few weeks." Bella sucked in a sharp breath, and Billy heard. He chuckled lightly as he continued. "We need to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid to hurt himself more before playoffs." Bella smoothed the front of her shirt, trying to seem less excited than she was. An inferno of excitement was tearing through her core, and she was afraid her blush would begin to show. She ducked her head, hoping, that in the dimness of the tunnel, Billy couldn't see her happiness.

"But…Angela is the head—" Billy Black waved his hand in front of him, and Bella came up short.

"Bella, you're father, and I have been friends since you were a little girl. I know you better than Angela. I know that I can trust you." He raised his eyebrow in a way that seemed as if he were asking her a silent question. _Can I trust you?_

"Yes," Bella murmured, though he hadn't really asked her a question. Billy nodded and wheeled himself around, disappearing down the tunnel.

Bella could barely see him as he called over his shoulder. "A car will pick you up outside." She heard the squeak of his wheels and then nothing. She was alone again.

That was how she'd ended up here, sitting on a comfortable leather barstool at the granite counter of Edward's high-end kitchen. Esme and Carlisle, Edward's parents, stood in front of her, briefing her as if she were on a top secret mission. "Don't let him eat too much. He's a binge eater," Esme was saying, her voice filled with concern. I would have never even guessed that Edward was her stepchild. "Oh and no weightlifting or physical labor or…" Her eyes rolled to the ceiling as she mentally checked for more no-no's for Edward.

"No alcohol with his medication," Carlisle said sternly, though his eyes were soft. Bella nodded, making sure she had everything written down on the small sticky note they had handed her.

"Oh! Please, don't let him watch the news tonight. It would just depress him to see his injury." She dropped her gaze sadly to her shoes, undoubtedly concerned for her son. Carlisle nodded in agreement, his eyes watching his wife wipe tears from her red, streaked cheeks.

"Look, are you guys sure you just don't want to stay? I mean, you are his parents." She was silently chanting to herself. _Please say no. Please say no. Please say no please say no pleasesayno pleasesayno. _Esme smiled sadly, dabbing the corner of her eyes with a tissue.

"He won't accept care from us," she said, smiling, though her voice was dripping with melancholy. The door creaked and everyone turned to look as it was pushed open. Esme and Carlisle rushed over to the door, standing perfectly still after mouthing a request for Bella to stay put, to which she complied, sitting hidden on the barstool where she could see him, but he couldn't see her. Esme went to Edward right away and asked how he was feeling. He just shrugged, but Bella saw him wince with the slight lift of his shoulder. Esme did, also.

"Are you sure you don't want to sit down, darling?" The concern rang throughout the house, and Edward sighed, shaking his head as he stood in the entryway, as if he didn't belong in his own home. Bella watched as he slid his shoes off, clenching and unclenching his fists. He knew that there was something us. Bella wondered what he would think when he found out that something was her.

"Son," Carlisle began, reaching out to touch his son, but then thinking better of it and letting his hand drop to his side. "We believe that you need someone to…" he fumbled for the words, his eyes scanning the room as he tried to find the best way to say that Edward needed a babysitter, "look after you while you recover, you know, cook, clean, get the bills." He paused for a moment, registering his son's expression before continuing on, "Just simple things that will make your recovery process less painful." Edward's mouth opened and closed quickly.

The words that escaped his open lips were comical. "But, Dad!" Bella laughed quietly, remembering how only a few days ago she had said the same thing to her father when he wouldn't let her go to Emmett's apartment.

"No buts, Edward," Esme chastised. She pressed a hand to her flushed face. "She's just going to stay at your house until you can play again." Edward rolled his eyes and dragged one hand down over his face.

"You just wanna make sure I don't do anything stupid." His voice was sharp as he countered his mother and father. Bella ran to the archway that separated the kitchen from the entryway, so that she was visible. She was ready to protect Carlisle and Esme's intentions, ready to yell at Edward, but, to Bella's surprise, Carlisle nodded in agreement.

"You are correct." As if sensing Bella's presence, his head tipped in her direction, but Bella could only see that in her peripherals. She was stunned to silence by the profile of Edward's face, by his sharp nose and angular jaw, by his green eyes and thick lashes. Her pink lips parted in a small "o" as his gaze met hers. She watched, a little smugly, as his eyes widened. "So no more complaining." Carlisle stated strictly

Bella couldn't hear what Edward murmured, but she could see his lips move. His gaze hadn't disconnected from hers, so Bella broke the trance, turning around and heading to the kitchen. It was nearly dinnertime, and she was hungry. She grabbed a few things out of the fridge and dug through the cabinets, finding a pan. She was vaguely aware of Edward and his parents chatting in the room over, but she didn't pay attention. She couldn't hear anything over the roaring of blood in her ears, her heart like a jackhammer against her ribcage. She splashed some olive oil into the pan and began frying strips of chicken.

The sizzling meat soothed her, a common sound heard at her own home. She took a shaky breath, waiting beside the gas stove. Her stomach fluttered as she heard someone approach. She turned her head ever so slightly to see that it was only Esme. She couldn't help the brick of disappointment that slammed down onto her. "We're leaving," Esme said quietly. Bella cocked her head to the side, pressing her lips together in a frown, her eyebrows knit together in concern.

"Are you sure you're not going to stay for dinner?" Esme nodded, surprising Bella by walking up to her and giving her a hug. Even more surprising, Bella found herself hugging the beautiful woman back.

"Please take care of Edward. He may not be my blood, but he's still my son." Bella gave Esme a squeeze and released her, flipping the chicken before it burned.

"I will, don't you worry." Esme nodded again, and Bella heard Carlisle calling her name.

"You're a good person, Bella Swan." With that, Esme left, leaving Bella standing confused next to the stove. She turned off the heat and pulled the chicken off. She wrapped it in tortillas along with lettuce and cheese and corn and salsa, putting them on a plate. She cut up a few apples and set them next to the plate of wraps. She sat staring at the plate for about five minutes, wondering if it was worthy of Edward, wondering if she was worthy of Edward. _Shut up. You don't have to be worthy of anyone_. She told herself angrily.

"Edward!" she called finally, an eep escaping her lips after she realized she'd actually said his name. A blush crept up the back of her neck as she pulled her hair from its bun, letting it cascade down her shoulders in loose, chocolaty waves. He pulled up short in the archway, his face neutral.

"What?" he asked slowly, annunciating the "t" sound. Bella nodded her head in the direction of the wraps, and Edward shoved, grabbing one and shoving it wholly in his mouth. He chewed. "Weh eh sho goowd." Bella shook her head.

"Could you swallow your food before complimenting me?" she asked, surprising herself by the sarcastic edge in her voice. Edward snorted and grabbed another wrap along with some apple slices, disappearing out of the kitchen. Bella watched him go and grabbed one of her own wraps, eating it slowly, delighted by the taste. She ate some of her apples as she cleaned up her mess. Finally, she found herself in a sparkly kitchen.

She walked through archways, trying to find Edward. She found him, sitting on the couch with his eyes staring intently at the television. She sat next to him on his white suede couch, twirling a thick, wavy, curl of brown hair around her index finger while eyeing Edward warily as he pressed an icepack to his scratched and bruised shoulder. "What?" he asked temperamentally, his eyes never leaving the plasma television mounted on the wall. A news woman spoke in a brisk, severe voice as pictures of a missing family flashed by on the screen, with bright words beneath reading, _Have you seen us?_

"You should go to the hospital," Bella told him, carefully measuring his expression. His straight jaw tightened slightly, the muscles of his face tensing. Trying to remain calm and mask his fear, he snorted, watching the local Wisconsin news morph to national news, headlining story teasers covering the screen.

"No." The one syllable word fell of his tongue, dripping with finality as his green eyes followed the writing flashing above the platinum-blonde hair of the newswoman. Bella's chocolaty brown eyes scanned the room. These were the first words he had said to her since his parents had left, aside from the standard, "Stay away from my stuff." She tucked her knees under her chin, absorbing the art-deco vibe given off by his house. Asymmetrical furniture in dark browns and whites covered the open floor plan, which seamlessly flowed from one room to the next, making the whole room light and airy. Late evening sun dripped in through the spotless windows, adding a slight glow to the shaggy, auburn hair covering Edward's head.

"You're scared of the doctor!" Bella said playfully, waiting for his gaze to catch hers as she stared at him. Again, Edward snorted impolitely. He turned his head just long enough to see that Bella was still watching him, plotting a plan against him.

"I am not scared of some wanna-be in a lab coat." Though he pretended to watch the television, his eyes betrayed his lie, twitching slightly as Bella silently laughed. "Why are you here anyway?" Edward asked suddenly, his tone low. Bella's breath hitched in her throat. Images of Billy Black telling her he could trust her flashed through her mind as she tried to think of an answer, but coming up short. _I know I can trust you_. He had said, but what did he mean by it? Did he really trust her? Bella snapped back to the present, realizing she'd been gaping at Edward. Lucky for her, Edward was still completely focused on the television, absorbed in a rescue story. Bella leaned back against the cushions, remaining silent as she tried to think of an answer. "I'm here to make sure you're okay by playoffs," she settled on, dropping her gaze to her feet as Edward didn't reply.

"Up next, can a hurt Packer cause a hurting season? Find out next on…" The newswoman's face disappeared as Bella clicked the power button, Edward's face snapping angrily toward her.

"What did you do that for?" He was nearly shouting at the top of his lungs, even though he wasn't even two feet from Bella.

"You are not allowed to watch news about your injury. Your father said. Period." Bella's lips were pressed into a thin line as Edward's liquid green eyes solidified into hard, edgy emeralds.

"I'm twenty-two. I do _not_ listen to my father." Edward spat the last word, as if his father were garbage. "Besides, I need to see if I look good injured." Bella watched, stunned as Edward snatched the remote from where she had it poised at the television. A video of Edward on the ground, shaking in pain as bystanders looked on. Bella saw herself hunched over him, removing his helmet and throwing it to the side. She blushed deeply, hoping Edward didn't see how long she'd stared at him while she was kneeling by him. The screen went dark again.

"Not as good looking as you hoped?" Bella quipped, nonchalantly inspecting her nails.

Edward grunted. "Too good," he said, turning his face toward Bella, "I thought you might faint."

She pushed him playfully in his good arm, and he laughed lightly.

"Seriously though, we need to get this thing X-rayed." Edward groaned as Bella helped him to his feet. She towed him to the front door, in complete disbelief that she was actually holding his hand. _Ugh, I don't get this way over guys. I am a strong, independent woman_. She pulled herself out of her thought quick enough to see Edward reaching for his keys. "Ah, ah, ah," she said, "I'm driving."

Edward threw his head back and groaned loudly. "So many rules! In my own home!" Bella laughed and towed him out the door to his car, slipping into the driver's seat and throwing it into reverse as soon as Edward piled into the passenger's seat. "Careful!" he choked out as she neared the end of his driveway. "I love this car!"

"Oh, look, he does have a heart," Bella crooned in response. Edward rolled his eyes toward the window, glaring as the houses flashed by. Bella was mentally cheering for herself. She was in a Lincoln Navigator with Edward Cullen. How much better could life get?

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><p><em>I'd take Edward in my Lincoln Navigator...but mine's white...so yeah...haha Review?<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_Pumped for an update? Haha I thought about giving up on this completely, but then I had free time, and *Points at text* This happened! :P Plus everyone's reviews inspired me, and they make me type faster, so be sure to help me get in the writing mood! :D So here's your update...way overdue if I may add..._

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><p><em>How much worse could life get?<em> Edward's thoughts were swirling around in his head, tangled together in a big mop, but all seeming to revolve around that one question. He

inhaled a deep, shaky breath as the examining room before him finally came into focus, as if someone had decided to adjust the lens on a photographer-grade camera,

annoyed with the hazy images that filled his vision. The room was painted completely white, probably to add an air of cleanliness, yet Edward felt it made the room

claustrophobic, like everything was closing in on him, suffocating him slowly. The white handle on the equally colorless door turned as the doctor pushed his way through,

dressed in none other than a pristine, pallid lab coat. The sterilizing paper crinkled sickeningly beneath Edward as he waited for the bomb to be dropped.

A cold chill crept up the sides of his arms, and he shifted out of the range of the fan. The sanitary paper popped beneath him again, his stomach churning with each

nauseating crunch. The doctor sat in front of him on a cushy rolling chair, causing a flame of envy to rock through Edward. Why couldn't he be comfortable while his life was

being destroyed? It wasn't fair. He shook his thoughts away in time to see the sandy-haired, blue-eyed man pointing at an X-ray. The light from the board behind it

illuminated the room in a terrifying blue glow. The doctor's tan finger pointed to a section of white bone, tracing a jagged line that cut angrily through one. "Are you sure?"

Edward's voice squeaked out, quietly, unsurely. He'd finally tuned into the words that the doctor was saying, willing his ears to listen intently. The doctor sighed, nodding.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen," Dr. Newton said for about the sixth time, shaking the long, blond hair from his clear, honest eyes. Edward had a hard time grasping the truth, each time

he thought he had a hold on what was happening, it slid through his thick fingers, which were coated in a thick layer of perspiration.

"Can you repeat the results again?" Edward was wringing his hands in front of him, hoping that maybe something otherworldly would happen, and the doctor would

magically say that everything was perfectly normal, and he could return to football, without even a bruise.

"You're clavicle is snapped." Edward's jaw tightened, the information sinking in, many emotions coursing through his veins: anger, fear, and sadness. Suddenly, a bruise

didn't sound so bad, but checking his shoulder, he noticed the purplish blotch taking root deep beneath his flawless skin. He just couldn't catch a break today.

He opened his mouth, thousands of questions threatening to fall of his tongue. Did he need a cast? Was there surgery? Could he play football? The last one felt like a knife

had been plunged into his gut, being turned ever so slowly, keeping him alive just to suffer. The twisting of his stomach pulled him up short, but Dr. Newton picked up the

slack, returning to the X-Rays and offering his opinion. "You must have tried to break the fall with your hand…" Dr. Newton broke through to him, demonstrating how the

bone was possibly broken. Frankly, Edward didn't remember how he fell or how he tried to catch himself. At that moment, all he really cared about was jumping into the

awaiting arms of the Bikini Girls. . .

"Yeah, I don't know." he said, dragging his good hand down his face, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath, trying to keep his ever rising heart rate down. He

blinked, kicking his heels noisily against the metal of the table he was sitting upon. Dr. Newton shot him a warning look, his lips drawn into a tight line, his eyes narrowed.

Edward did not like this man, lab coat or not. This was the man they had sent to ruin his life? To take away his dreams? Couldn't they have least sent a waitress from

Hooters or something? He would have been too distracted to notice the tears stinging his eyes, the pain that threatened to wrench him to his knees.

Without warning, Edward jumped up, ripping the white tissue beneath his weight. He was glad he'd been allowed to change back into normal clothes after the X-Ray. The

draft of the hospital gown would have kept him glued to his seat, stuck in the stuffy, white room with Dr. Newton and his dreary voice that told devastating news. He darted

quickly from the room, cradling his arm carefully against his chest and leaving the door open behind him. Glancing backward, he saw Dr. Newton, his mouth agape as he

looked down the hallway at Edward's retreating form.

She'd had been wrong about him. Edward wasn't afraid of the doctor. No, he wasn't afraid of their lab coats or their cold, sterilized hands or stethoscopes. Hek, he wasn't

even afraid of the shots they sometimes had to give him for bad cuts. What really terrified him was that they held the key, the key that was able to destroy his life, make

the world come crashing and tumbling down around him. They made the decisions about his career, about his ability to play. Bella was wrong.

His thoughts were brought up short. _Bella_. . Then he was running faster, sprinting out of the through the labyrinth of halls they called the hospital as if he'd been wandering

these corridors all of his life. It had to be around seven, and he had to find Bella. _I just need to find her because she's my ride home_, he assured himself, not liking the

shakiness his whole body took on as her name popped into his mind. He saw her image flash across his green eyes, smiling with her hair flowing in cascading chocolaty

waves around her shoulders, curling upward slightly at the end. He vaguely heard his name being called over the intercom system as he took a hard right, jolting his

shoulder and causing him to grunt in pain. Fear rippled through his body as he ran, dodging nurses and wheelchairs and patients as he earned a few wild stares from

others.

He couldn't help but glare at them. His world was falling around him, crumbling into rubble and suffocating him beneath it. He babied his now throbbing shoulder as he

dashed into the waiting room, nearly tackling Bella who stood at the counter.

"Oh, there you are," she said cheerfully, but then he was dragging her toward the exit. "What are you—?" she asked, stumbling along beside him. Edward didn't really have

an answer. He didn't know what he was doing anymore, so he kept his reply simple, calm, though it went against all the emotions swirling around inside of him.

"Running." He pushed through the glass entry, not bothering to wait for the automatic doors to open them. Bella mumbled something, still clumsy on her feet, struggling to

keep up with Edward's lengthy strides. She chirped the Navigator unlocked as she came within range, staring at him wild-eyed as she threw open the passenger door and

slid onto the cool, leather seat. The sun was a vibrant orange as it began to disappear behind the horizon, shadowing the world in a deep, golden glow.

The door slammed as Bella hopped in. Edward pressed his fingertips to his temples, sighing loudly and slumping into his seat, ignoring the protest from his shoulder. He

saw Bella's pink lips part, as if she were preparing to say something. He beat her to the punch. "Humor me," he commanded, his voice coming out in a throaty bark. He

watched her eyes widen, and her face recoil as if she slapped him. His tone was a strained whisper as he croaked out another word. "Please."

Her words faltered, "O-okay." Her voice was as smooth as silk, as sweet as raspberry lemonade from his grandmother's kitchen. He closed his eyes, trying to dissolve

himself into her words, get lost in what she was saying and forget about what was happening. She was rambling on about how in high school she took missions trips to

Africa and helped sick and injured children over there. She talked about her mother and her husband Phil that lived in Phoenix, Arizona. She talked about how she moved

with her dad and brother from Forks, Washington when Emmett scored a spot on the starting lineup of the Green Bay Packers. In a matter of minutes, Edward felt like he

knew her whole life story, every small detail, every insecurity, every intimate memory, every little detail.

He exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and he heard her words fall off midsentence. A few leaves had dropped from the tree in the middle of the parking lot

and landed on the hood of his sleek black Lincoln. Her voice was small and concerned as she lifted her milky eyes to meet his, "Are you ready to go back in?" He caught her

gaze and was momentarily stunned by the pureness of her eyes, the innocence of her stare. He fisted his gym shorts just to keep from launching himself at her. What was

this girl doing to him? He nodded and grasped the handle of the car door, hopping out. He saw her move to follow.

"Alone," he added a bit too harshly. He winced at her slight squeak, chagrin washing through him, but he trudged forward to the hospital, where Dr. Newton met him at the

door, smiling as he wrapped his arm in a blue sling. It propped his arm against his side in a comfortable way. As Dr. Newton began explaining the directions, Edward walked

away, already feeling the unruly angst bubbling up inside him. He stomped back to the car and through open the door, shooting a glare at Bella, but covering it up with a

forced laugh, knowing she had been just trying to help.

"Happy?" he asked, gesturing to his wrapped limb. _They should have just severed it_, he thought, gritting his teeth at his self-pity. He was higher than that, raised to show

no weakness. She nodded, throwing the car in reverse and swiftly pulling from the spot in the parking lot. Edward plugged his iPod into the radio and clicked shuffle, not

really caring what came up, as long as it filled the silent void between the two people sitting in the car.

The lyrics faded into the background as a low hum filled his hearing. His neck became too weak to support his head. He heard Bella laugh quietly as the tendrils of sleep

tugged him under. From there, he was doing the Jell-O-neck-head-bob, waking up every time his face was whipped backward from a bump. Finally, after about the third

time, he forced his eyelids open, glancing sideways at Bella, who had a huge smile plastered to her face. She caught his staring and snorted, clamping a hand over her

mouth as she realized what she did wasn't very lady-like. Edward couldn't help but think about how it hadn't been girly; it had been down-right sexy.

"What?" There was an undertone to his throaty voice. It was happiness, a small laugh.

Bella bit her lower lip, containing her gorgeous smile. Edward quirked an eyebrow, completely seriously. She laughed loudly. "You have drool dried to your face!" Her

fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel as she tried to keep her eyes on the road.

Edward groaned inwardly, hiding his embarrassment as he dragged his arm across his mouth, only to find that it was rough with dried saliva. "Must've been dreaming of

something really nice," he shrugged indifferently, his own green eyes trained on the highway, slightly concerned for the safety of his car, but mostly concerned for the

safety of the brunette giggling uncontrollably beside him. He rubbed his cool hand across the back of his reddening neck, hoping to cover his blush before she caught sight

of it.

The car turned into his driveway, and Edward realized that he'd slept most of the ride home. He swung his legs out the side of the car, hoping to rush into the house and

just fall into the welcoming home of his plush mattress. He threw open the door.

"Surprise!" his house shouted in his general direction. Nope, not his house. His entire football team was nonchalantly chilling in his living room, as if it was the most normal

thing to go to someone's house, unannounced, and just hang around after they found the owner was out. He smiled anyways, accepting a red plastic cup handed to him by

one of the Packer's linemen. The burly, dark-skinned boy named Embry clapped him on his good shoulder and looked him in the eyes, dropping one shoulder as if to say, _I _

_know this injury's not gonna stop you_. Edward just blinked at him, and soon the boy got awkward, going to chat with a fellow member of the line, an equally dark and built

man named Quil.

Emmett approached Edward next, engulfing him in a big bear hug, yet careful of his shoulder. "Nice sling, bro," he said, pinching the blue fabric between his thumb and

index finger. "Want me to bet my sister to bedazzle it for you?" His eyes were crinkled at the edges as a broad grin dominated his face. His comment earned a round of

laughter from the group behind him.

Edward didn't chuckle, knowing that Bella would burst through the door any minute, the keys to his Navigator dangling precariously from her finger tips. The soft thunk of

the door and Emmett's large, astonished eyes told him that it had just happened. "B-Bella?" He stuttered, his eyes shifting from Edward's face to his sister's. Edward turned

around, seeing the siblings mirror each other's shocked looks.

"I know you use chicks as distractions…" Emmett's voice trailed off, stunned.

"Em—" Bella's level-headed tone began, but her brother's booming voice cut off anything she was going to stay.

His sinister eyes bore through Edward, and Edward knew that if they could shoot bullets, he would have been Swiss cheese by now. "**My own sister**." His words were

threatening, escaping his lips as almost a growl. Any playful banter in the room had silenced, and if it weren't for Emmett's heavy, angered breathing and Edward's racing

pulse, they could have heard a pin drop.

The silence remained as Emmett sucked in a breath, puffing out his chest and standing at his full glory. He was a good six inches taller than Edward, but he was built like a

sturdy freight train, a train that was ready to hit anybody that messed with his sister. Edward put his hands up in defeat. "Dude, it's not what you thing—" Those were the

only word's he got out before Emmett's thick fist connected with his face, sending him sprawling across the living room floor and into the wall, his shoulder and head

smacking against the drywall before he dropped to the ground

"Emmett!" Bella cried. He felt the feather-light pressure of her fingertips on her forehead, but it was only for a moment. He felt his chest shake with a strangled, ragged

breath. He blinked his eyes but saw nothing. Darkness was quickly filling his vision. The room around him disappeared as silence overtook his ears. The world melted away,

and unconsciousness claimed his body.

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><p><em>You all better know that Emmett can pack a punch! haha! Review so we can see Bella's thoughts about the fist throwing, and so we can see what happened to Edward...and his shoulder o.O Poor, broken Edward. Bella's happy to play doctor! :)<em>


	6. Chapter 6

_It's been so long…too long actually. I have had no inspiration, so this is what I came up with…I hope you enjoy_

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><p>"Emmett!" Bella squealed, reaching down to check that Edward still had a pulse. She released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding when she felt the steady heartbeat pulsing against his wrist. She wrenched herself back up to a standing position, meeting her brother's neutral expression with a furious one of her own. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" She shrieked, shoving him away from Edward and into the throng of eager watchers, stumbling out of the way to prevent themselves from being crushed by Emmett's weight. She turned her anger on them, waving her hand toward the door. "You may leave now." She watched them trip over themselves to get out the door, cuss words and hushed whispers creating a hum around the room. Bella tapped her foot against the wood floor while she watched them go, shutting and locking the door firmly behind them.<p>

The buzz of voices was gone, leaving behind the heated silence between Bella and her dark-haired sibling. "What. Were. You. Thinking," she said in a short, clipped tone, eyeing her brother up and down, searching for the answer.

"Bells," he said, stuffing his hands into his pocket and looking at her face, catching her hard, brown eyes with a dark, protective gaze.

"Don't 'Bells' me! You are the one that is ruining my life! I'm going to for surely get fired. I was supposed to protect him, and you hit him! I was supposed to not allow him to hurt his shoulder, and he just flew into a wall! I was supposed to keep him happy, and now he's unconscious!" she rambled loudly, ticking the ways she had failed off on her fingers.

Emmett closed the distance between them, wrapping his hands around her fingers and pulling them down to her sides, looking at her with concern. "You were here because of your job?" Bella couldn't tell if the meaning behind the words was relived or appalled. She nodded and decided the first when Emmett exhaled a long, deep breath, becoming suddenly interested in the laces on his sneakers. "Sorry, Bells," he mumbled, looking up and probing her face, hoping for forgiveness.

"You should go," she said coldly, not used to being able to remain angry at her brother. She showed him out the door then sunk to the floor by Edward, taming his unruly locks into a slightly less messy look. "Edward," she murmured, watching his peaceful breath as his chest rose and fell. He definitely was awake now, his mouth twitching into a hopelessly sexy grin. His eyelashes fluttered against his slightly freckled cheeks, but they didn't open. "Edward," she said, trying to contain the giggling building up inside of her at the sight of Edward trying to pretend to sleep. His limbs were twitching in short, jerky movements, his eyes moving beneath his lids.

She busied herself by checking to make sure his jaw wasn't bruising too horribly. It was already turning a slightly purple hue, shadowing his chin in a darker color. "That's going to leave a terrible mark," she commented lightly, bursting out as Edward's eyes flew open and he went to a sitting position.

"What?" His fingers gingerly felt the tender area where he was punched, and Bella watched as he winced slightly from the pressure. "Dang it," he muttered to himself, dragging himself up off the floor with his good arm. His eyes found Bella's, and she was momentarily stunned. The green in them was so pure, so deep, that he almost looked vulnerable, hurt. She shook it off, knowing what this boy was capable of, having seen from the sidelines as he wowed woman after woman.

"You should get some rest," she suggested slowly, testing the waters, waiting for his reaction to her offering advice on his health.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, dragging himself up off the floor and cupping his elbow with his hand. "What I really need is a drink." Bella opened her mouth to protest, but he was already limping away toward the kitchen.

"Edward!" she hollered after him, her feet straining to catch him. She began sprinting, looping around him and positioning herself between the refrigerator and Edward. "No. Alcohol." Her voice was clear and low, demanding his attention.

"What-ever!" he groaned, stomping angrily toward the stairs. She heard a string of replacement cuss words fall off his lips, and she had to bite back a laugh, knowing her giggling would just make the situation at least a hundred times worse. She waited until she heard his footfalls retreat, and she yanked open the freezer, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and chuckling quietly. She rifled through the cold, solid contents, some of which came tumbling out and smacked against the floor. Her fingers were red and cold by the time she'd gotten through the top two shelves of his double-wide fridge and freezer set.

"What pro football player doesn't buy icepacks?" she mused aloud, searching deeper into the shelving. "No peas, nothing frozen except ice cream!" She slammed the freezer door in frustration, running her fingers through her hair. What the heck was she supposed to use against his shoulder? She heard the shower above turn on, and she figured she had about ten minutes to figure something out. She looked around the kitchen, clanking pots and pans together, removing silverware from drawers, until she finally found a small Ziploc bag. She shoved it full of ice from the dispenser in the refrigerator and wrapped a dishtowel around it, assuring herself that it would do.

Then she popped her head into the fridge and grabbed a hunk of raw steak. It was mushy between her fingers, and her stomach churned at the stench of uncooked meat. She gagged as she carried it out of the kitchen, reminding herself that it was going to help Edward, the man whose injury was putting money in her bank account. Hurrying upstairs, she heard the shower stop. The door in the hallway flew open, and Edward appeared among a cloud of steam. It looked like a dramatic movie as the hero emerged from the tendrils of steam after saving the world. Bella stopped and watched as the steam cleared around him, his shadowy silhouette coming into full view.

She nearly dropped the ice in her hands and had to bite on her tongue to keep her jaw closed. He was standing before her, his rusty auburn locks clinging in wet curls against his face and neck, his green eyes vibrant against contrasting paleness of his skin. She allowed momentarily for her eyes to travel lower. Drops of steaming water raced in the hard crevices of the defined muscles of his torso. She greedily looked lower, seeing the hard "V" of muscle that disappeared into the white towel slung precariously low on his hips.

"Bella, were you just checking me out?" Bella ducked behind her hair, blushing viciously. Had he really seen her ogling him. She crossed the threshold and silently held out her contents to him, keeping her eyes trained on the hollow of his throat, the safest place to look that wouldn't cause her to blush or swoon. Oh, who was she kidding? This man had the greatest neck in the world, hard defined bones and muscles flowing seamlessly into strong, broad shoulders. _Stop it, Bella_, she growled in her mind, turning around to go.

She'd planned to make a dramatic exit, with sweeping arms and everything, just so that he would be able to see how he didn't affect her, so she could lie to herself about the way he affected her. What she hadn't planned was that her middle finger would get caught in Edward's towel. As she finished her spin, she heard the whoosh of fabric as it fell from his waist, pooling around his feet. She didn't hear him move, didn't hear him stir to cover himself. She hadn't even heard a shocked gasp.

"Wanna look?" He asked after a moment of stillness. She could see his crooked grin in her mind as he said those words, shattering the silence. God, yes did she want to look. She wanted to do more than look. Way more than look, but she set her shoulders, locking her joints so that she wouldn't allow herself to turn around. The way he wasn't embarrassed, the way he was so confident reminded her of everything about this man she hated. The way he treated girls, the way he played with them then cast them aside, the way he used his looks and charm to his advantage. The way he pursued a girl until he got her and then threw her away, starting on his next conquest.

"No," she said stiffly, cringing as she heard her own voice crack at the words. She walked away, probably looking like C3PO from Star Wars by the way she was moving. She reached the staircase and sat down, shutting her eyes and forcing the rugged blond out of her thoughts.

x.o.x.o.x

The morning brought on an awkward silence. The bruise had blossomed out against Edward's skin and covered nearly his entire chin. When Bella had tried to touch it, to even look at it, Edward jerked away, ducking his head behind his arm. He'd been weird all morning, not the confident, cocky man he usually was. She plopped a dish of scrambled eggs down in front of him, and he shoved them back at her, his face set in a defiant expression.

"What, are you gonna make me feed you?" He didn't respond, his gaze set on the stove just to the left of Bella's head. Bella groaned, scooping up a mouthful of cheesy eggs and swirling them toward Edward's face. "Here comes the train," she crooned, as if she were talking to a child.

Bella gasped as Edward smacked her arm away, sending the eggs splattering across the breakfast bar and the spoon clanking against the floor. He crossed his arms over his chest, and Bella noticed the subtle wince as he did this. "You're shoulder's still bugging you," she murmured, reaching for the ice pack she'd prepared for him. She laid it gingerly on his shoulder, but as soon as she released it, he brushed it off. She picked it up and set it down again, pretending as if it merely slid down his arm. He shook it off again, and again, and again. "EDWARD!" she shouted exasperatedly, "I am only trying to help!" His eyebrows furrowed.

"Maybe I don't want your help," he growled, his eyes now set on the spoon where it bounced to a rest against the cabinets.

"What is WRONG with you?" She collected the ice pack and the spoon, sweeping a paper towel over the eggs. "I am only doing what's best for you, so that you can get back to the things you love faster." She ran her hands over her face, catching her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Oh, don't do that. That is so not cool."

"What, Edward? What am I doing?" He pointed to his mouth, catching his own lip with his teeth.

"The lip thing." Bella rolled her eyes, gauging his expression. It was unreadable. She gnawed on her lip again.

"Like this?" she said, lightening the mood with a smile. Edward's face remained somber as he nodded. "Are you gonna stop me?" She leaned over the counter, her face just inches from his as she captured her lip, looking up at him through eyelashes. She'd never really flirted before, at least, never really effectively.

Edward pursed his lips, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling as if he were pondering the thought. A lightness flashed through his eyes as his mouth parted in an Aha! expression. His eyes came back to rest on her lip, it captured firmly by her teeth. Her heart fluttered as he reached out and ran his thumb along her lower lip, coaxing her teeth to release it. "Yes," he whispered, a bit breathlessly before taking her lips with his.

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><p><em>So…review? Suggestions for the plot are totally welcome and actually encouraged. Thanks <em>


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey readers! Really short, and just a filler so we can get onto the good stuff! Aight, this has a lot of backstory and feelings that Edward has for Bella...so let's just see how this goes!_

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><p>Edward looked up at the ceiling, well, more like glared at it. He was sprawled out on his bed, fingers laced behind his head, feet dangling off the edge. He'd been so stupid, so weak. He'd allowed himself to become vulnerable, to feel things that he'd long ago shut out. He released a slow breath, removing his intense gaze from the spackled ceiling and letting his gaze wander around his room.<p>

There was a large window, white honeycomb shades allowing some morning sunshine to seep into the room. It was as if it was filtered though, the gold removed and only white covering the room, making it devoid of the colors that usually filled the area. He saw his extremely large and expensive stereo system jammed into one of the corners, a black, streamlined couch pulled up close to it with an afghan draped over the back for when he liked to listen to music. His CDs were all piled onto large bookshelves, endless songs, titles, albums, and artists organized according to his favorites. There had to be over three hundred CDs distributed throughout his bedroom, and at least another one hundred throughout his house. His lips twitched into a half smile at the thought of that. He was a known music junkie, his iPod constantly tucked in the pocket of his jeans, earbuds dangling from his ears. It was just him, just what he liked, just who he was.

He sighed, rolling over onto his stomach and burying his face into the soft, down comforter. It had to be past six o'clock, the usual time he started his workout, but he didn't want to get up. Frankly, he didn't want to do much of anything besides sulk in the dreariness of his bedroom. His shoulder was throbbing rhythmically, a dull pain resounding through his entire torso with every slight shift, every deep breath. His jaw was tender to the touch, and he just sensed that a big, ugly bruise had developed against his otherwise flawless skin. He winced as he gingerly slid his fingers along the spot where Emmett's fist had connected, remembering the flash of anger in Emmet's deadly stare as Bella strode through Edward's front door, nearly tight to his heels.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, pressing more firmly into the mattress. He was trying to forget the events of yesterday: the pain, the horror, the passion, everything. He was failing miserably though, his heart thudding unevenly in his chest as he watched the memories unfold before him, like a video clip playing behind his closed eyelids. He couldn't forget the moment his mindset had shifted, the moment he couldn't take not touching her, the moment he couldn't think of anything besides her, the moment he regretted not belonging to her.

It was as if I giant weight had been removed from his shoulders, where it had been pressing down against him, like with every step forward, the weight forced him back three. But it was gone, disintegrated when she had captured her juicy, pink lip between her teeth, seductively, enticingly gnawing as she was deep in thought. And the way she teased him! That girl was sure to be the death of him someday. He could feel it.

It was agonizing, watching her so deep in thought, so concerned, and not knowing what she was thinking. Was she thinking about him? Or Emmett? Did she like it here? Or miss her home? That mere action, the absentminded tick that probably drove a few people insane, caused emotions long suppressed to stir inside of him. Forget stir, the feelings he felt for that doe-eyed girl had erupted, devoured him as if it were a wildfire, wild and free, and he was the brown grass after a long drought, subjected to be engulfed in the orange flames of passion. It tore though his being, through everything he'd ever known. Football wasn't even a fathomable subject when he was looking at her. It seemed to not even exist. All that was attainable, understandable, was the glorious, chocolaty swirls in her irises, the flowing brown waves of her silky hair, the curve of her smile, the blush that rose to her cheeks whenever someone so much as looked at her.

He would have given anything, _anything_, to brush the rough pads of his thumbs along the rouge color of the blood pooling beneath her skin, to kiss the corner of her perfectly pink lips as they were turned upward in happiness, to feel her eyelashes brushing against his as they looked deeply at each other, attesting to their feelings in one look. He would have done anything to have her breath wash of his face as he breathed her in, to feel her fingers stroking up and down the skin of his back, to have her hands fisted into his long, auburn hair, to just be with her.

He wanted nothing but to close the hefty proximity between them, nothing but to hold her in his arms forever. But he couldn't. The weight that had been removed from his shoulders, the burden he'd bared for so many years, the thought that he couldn't love or be loved, had been replaced against his chest, crushing down against his heart with blinding pain. He'd kissed her, finally become brave enough to capture her lips. But when he pulled away, she'd said nothing, just stared, blinking those perfect brown eyes. She'd said nothing! She didn't even move. Edward left her in the same position as before he'd kissed her, stumbling to his bedroom in a confused haze. He'd felt something between them, even when they weren't touching, there was some type of electric current buzzing between them.

She entranced him, infatuated him. She reeled him in, like she was the positive charge, and he was the opposing force. She'd utterly rejected him, and he still yearned for her, his mind begging him to conjure up an image of her face, to memorize her voice, her features. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he turned roughly onto his back once more.

This was getting terribly out of hand. He barely knew the girl. Well, the new Bella at least. He wasn't even sure she remembered the first time they met, oh but he did. It was one of his most cherished memories, but he'd shoved it to the backmost, blackest corner of his mind, forcing himself to never think of the instance again, to just forget it ever happened, but he allowed himself to relish in the moment now, knowing that he already was feeling the emotions that he thought he could prevent by forgetting her face, forgetting she ever even existed.

He struggled to breath as the past over took him, whisking him away to five years ago, before his pro football career had started, before he'd become a new person, before everything was so complicated. He was still in high school, young and dumb. He thought he was invincible, untouchable by anyone else. He'd been clubbing late one Saturday night, the joint bumping along to the beats of the latest hits. The girls around him were all scantily dressed, wearing tight miniskirts and tank tops, their robust endowments flowing out the low-cut necklines. He liked it. A lot.

The strobe lights flashed briefly in increments, allowing him only seconds to scan the faces of the crowd. He lifted his red plastic cup to his lips, watching a blond girl with bright blue eyes sway against the hips of another woman. He licked his lips, the buzz of alcohol washing over him like a warm summer breeze. He welcomed the feeling of being tipsy, the stupidity that accompanied any type of alcoholic beverage. He was eighteen, an adult and free to do what he pleased as long as he had his fake I.D. with him. Evan Simons. That was his name tonight, and he was ready to party as he slammed his cup against the bar and sidled up to the dance floor.

The crowd was gyrating, every girl grinding against someone that was fortunate to stand by them, or in some cases, unfortunate. Edward sliced in between the crowd, reaching the blond and digging his fingers into her exposed flesh, watching a wry smile stretch across her features. "What's your name?" he'd asked, pulling her backside flush against him. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, her hips swinging faster, harder.

"Tanya," she purred, her fingernails scratching at the fine hairs that lined his neck. Edward smiled and began nipping at the bare skin of her shoulders, hear her yips and squeaks as he did so.

"Edward," he had replied, continuing his quest to taste every inch of her flesh. Edward knew he was going to love this girl and leave her. That was exactly who he was. A player. That year, he'd watched his parent's fairytale marriage crumble, fall right to pieces before his eyes. And it was because of him, because of who he was and who he aspired to be. He believed that all forms of love were lies, something into a girl's pants, not that he ever needed to use the L-word when he flashed them his signature, panty-dropping smirk.

Tanya was melting beneath his fingertips like butter, palpable in her need, in her lust. She was easy, and Edward had full intent of using such qualities to his advantage. Until he heard her voice. Right to the left of him, a brunette spun around in circles with a few giggling girls, her brown eyes dancing around the room, reading every face. It seemed like years before that glorious gaze landed against him.

His heart sank when she quickly flitted her eyes to the next person, her expression never changing. She smiled and whispered something to her friends before sashaying off to the bar. "Excuse me," Edward murmured, Tanya nearly falling over when he walked away. She shouted colorful words at him before begging him to come back. He couldn't hear her.

It was as if someone had smacked him upside the head. He felt that Smashmouth should jump onto the stage and begin singing "I'm a Believer" because just the sight of that girl made him want to give up his ways, made him want to settle down forever, and he didn't even know her name.

He watched her order a drink, slipping a few dollars into the bartender's hand. He stumbled momentarily on whether he should just outright talk to this girl. She seemed outgoing, with her hypnotizing smile and swirling hips.

Edward swallowed his fears and approached the girl, stopping a foot short of her before speaking. "Hi, I'm Ed—"

"Bella! Come dance!" a burly man that Edward now knew as Emmett hollered. The Bella girl downed her drink and disappeared into the throng of people.

Edward flashed back to reality, running his hands over his face and exhaling quietly. One girl's rejection shouldn't hurt him so much. He could have every other girl on the planet, but why did he want her so much?

"It's just because she's playing hard to get," he assured himself, sitting up and tugging on a t-shirt and some gym shorts.

He threw open the door to find a familiar face smiling at him.

"Alice…" he growled.

"Oh, stop sulking in your room, Eddy, and come out and play! You're trainer is the best." The pixie-like girl flitted away, her bobbed hair bouncing excitedly around her. Edward sighed audibly, resting his forehead against the doorjamb as he heard Alice squeal Bella's name.

"Yeah, I know."

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><p><em>Review and make me smile! My writing is a bit angsty these days because my boyfriend cheated on me : But on a lighter note...I'm looking for a beta...any takers? ;)_


	8. Chapter 8

_Don't hurt me! :( It's just a transition/filler chapter so I'm sorry that there will be little action. It's just Bella's take on what Edward remembers. There seems to be a lack of interest in my story so I don't know if I will continue. For now I will, but my focus is on my TMI fanfics because the reviews and interest seem to be there. Chapters might be slow, but the will come. If I get tons of interest in this story, they will come faster. Anways...ENJOY :D_

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><p>The pulsing lights of the club blinded Bella as she stumbled between the gyrating bodies, just looking for a place to sit down. Her feet were throbbing in agonizing pain, and she kicked off the tiny red heels that Alice had shoved onto her feet. She tugged at the short hemline of the black sequined dress the pixie-like girl had tossed at her. Bella adored Alice, brightened by the short girl's chipper mood and uncanny ability to get Edward to follow orders, but she was bossy with a capitol <em>b<em>. She gripped the cup in her hand, recalling Alice pushing it in her face and ordering her to drink.

Despite Emmett's claims and hopes, Bella was no nun. She loved parties. She loved dancing, and she obviously loved men. Her eyes trailed the auburn-haired beauty that was playing beer pong in the corner with a couple of his buddies. Did he remember that night? The full night? She curled a few fingers into her straight hair and bit her lip, remembering what had transpired. He was smashed, so she couldn't see how he would know what had happened. Her eyes glazed over as she stared at him, wallowing in the feel of his fingers on her skin, his face inches from hers.

_The club was packed, and she was loving every minute of it. Her friends and she were giving each other dares, laughing at what some were having to do. "Jessica, you have to do the _Jenna Marbles_ face to the next boy that asks you to dance," Bella dared, giggling. Jessica's painted lips pulled up in a grin, revealing her perfectly sparkling teeth. Bella lifted her cup to her lips, forgetting what drink she'd asked the bartender to pour. It was bitter and burned on the way down her throat, but the buzz was addicting._

_ The girls sashayed to the beat, swinging their hips suggestively, taunting every boy in the place. Finally, there was one brave enough to approach them. It was obvious that he was plastered, with a goofy grin on his face and dilated blue eyes. "Wanna dance, pretty lady?" he slurred, looking directly at Bella. Flattered but somewhat put off by the amount of alcohol spilled on his shirt, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and shyly shook her head, directing him toward Jessica. "Mike." He stuck his arm out to grab his waist, but was soon caught off guard by the unattractive face she was giving him, his eyes widening before turning to go without another word._

_ The girls fell into a fit of giggles, doubling over and holding their stomachs in an attempt to stop. This is why she loved her best friends. Jessica, Angela, and Lauren had been there for her through everything. When her mom left her dad, they were at her doorstep with tubs of Blue Moon ice cream and boxes of tissues. When her first boyfriend cheated on her, they were there to spread nasty rumors about him throughout the school. These four girls were joined at the hip, inseparable, and Bella preferred it that way. _

_ "Bella, I dare you to…" Jessica thought for a moment, stopping to bat her thick eyelashes at a boy grinding next to her. That was Jessica, always putting up a show for the men. "Ooh! I dare you to hook up with someone that _doesn't_ have dark hair." There was a triumphant grin on her face, and Bella groaned. It was well known that Bella avoided every boy that had light hair, ever since one incident during sophomore year that had her fearing a certain hair color._

_ "Jess, you know that I—"_

_ "Time to face your fears, honey. Be adventurous!" Lauren crooned over the cup of her drink, avidly gulping the rest of its contents. She was smashed too, her arms laced around the neck of a dark-skinned boy as she pushed her hips against his pelvis. Bella rolled her chocolaty eyes, scrubbing her hands down her face. Annoyed that she was still sober for this, she allowed her eyes to dance over the faces in the room, hoping that there was at least one hot guy with blondish hair. _

_ There was an okay one near the deejay equipment, another leaning against the archway that lead outside, and another one at the bar. She settled for the blond boy at the bar, liking the dark color of his eyebrows, hoping that it was a sign his hair was dyed. Downing her drink for an excuse, she sauntered up to the bar, resting her elbow on the dirtied counter and shooting her order at the man behind it. She chomped down on her lower lip, wondering how to spark a conversation. She looked to her friends for support, but they were engrossed in their own pursuits. "Hi, I'm Bella," she said quietly to him, hoping that was enough._

_ Then the man walked away. He just walked away from her without saying a word. Maybe he just didn't hear her over the roar of the music. Bella reconsidered when she watched him latch arms with another blond-haired boy. "Whatever," she mumbled, using her finger to slowly stir the top of the drink that had been slammed in front of her. She turned, startled by a boy standing a foot in front of her, looking up at her with bright green eyes through thick, tawny hair. _

_ "Hi, I'm Ed—" the boy said, his voice wavering and unsure. That's when Emmett decided to interrupt and pull her onto the dance floor to show everyone their dance for 1985._

Debbie just hit the wall.

She never had it.

One Prozac a day.

Husbands a CPA.

_Her eyes followed the boy around the bar, as he tossed back drink after drink after drink, until he was stumbling around as drunkenly as the boy that had asked her to dance earlier. The song seemed to last forever, and for some reason, Bella just wanted to be back under the observant gaze of those deep green eyes. She wanted to feel his body wrapped around hers, to be held by those strong arms. When the song finally did end, she surveyed the room for the boy with auburn hair, not dark yet not light, suitable for the dare and not enough to bring back the memories of that dance. _

_ She finally found him sitting on the floor, his back propped up against the wall and his head thrown back, popping the top of another beer. A smile grew on her face as she stepped up to him, using the heel of her shoe to kick away the unopened bottle. He stared at his empty hand for a moment, confused in his intoxicated stupor. When his eyes met hers, a sloppy smile covered his face. Bella bit her lip before pulling him to a standing position and offering to share a cab for the ride home. He agreed immediately and paid the entire fee, though needless to say they only made one stop._

_ Bella helped him falter up the stairs, pushing him down onto her bed before crawling in next to him. He took her face gently in his hands, so sure for someone that had nearly faceplanted with every step he took. "Bella." The brown-haired girl said before crashing her lips against his, high from the electric shocks that sparked between their close bodies. She heard him murmur the name _Edward _into her mouth, but her mind was mush with the feel of his muscles pressed up against every inch of her. They didn't go all the way, but Bella was still heartbroken when the next morning, she woke up alone._

That's why she didn't say anything when he'd kissed her last night. She didn't want to get hurt again, didn't want to feel that pain. Yet, he didn't seem like the same person he'd been back then. He was even playing beer pong with a water, his buddies understanding that he couldn't drink with his painkillers if he ever wanted to get better. He wasn't using the superstar football player or injury card on any of the scantily dressed women in the joint. She felt like she needed him, like she needed to give it another go. Her mind surely wouldn't let him go if she never did, and neither would her heart that had once ached over him.

She wandered over to him, fisting her fingers into the edges of her dress. "Hey," he greeted without looking up, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Hey," she squeaked out quietly, her eyes following the pingpong ball as it splashed into a cup of yellow liquid. She blinked back her fears, looking up and finding his heavy gaze on her. Maybe she should play drunk and just giddily press her lips to his, but she didn't want it to be like that. She wanted him to know that she wanted it, that she would remember it. Carefully, she balanced her cup on the edge of the table, taking another step closer to him and hooking her fingers through the belt loops of his jeans. His eyes were hooded, but his breath hitched, giving Bella the confidence to tug him toward her and stretch up on her tiptoes, her lust and need crashing into the gentlest touch that soon turned into a passionate kiss. Her mouth yielded to his, and when his tongue begged for entrance, she obliged immediately. When she finally pulled back, she looked up into his eyes, finding that they sparkled with joy. A look that could only be found on a face as perfect as his. He was just Edward. And she was just Bella, the brown-eyed girl that wanted the green-eyed angel.

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><p>So? Reviews make me smile and inspire me which equal more fulfilling and faster chapters :) thanks for reading, yo!<p>

~All My Love :D


	9. Chapter 9

_I couldn't get this out of my mind all day, and after I finished my book (City of Lost Souls: Random A/N I really do like the TMI series, but I lost interest after City of Glass was supposed to be the last one...still reading all of them, just because I love Clace and always follow through on an entire series (example: House of Nigh Series *cough cough* money hungry *cough cough*) but a series I will never tire of is the Morganville Vampires..Check it out!) Ooh long A/N...anyways..Enjoy, my lovelies... :D BTW IT'S NOT A FILLER CHAPTER..BAM! *smirk* you're welcome._

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><p>Waking up with Bella cocooned in his arms—well as cocooned as she could be when he was wearing a sling—was the best morning of his life. Her dark hair spilled over the pillowcase and curled over her shoulders. Her lips were parted, pink and possibly a little swollen from their electric kisses last night. Her eyelashes rested in the hollows beneath her eyes, and her chest rose and fell evenly with the soft snores slipping from her mouth. Edward bit his lip, his fingers playing with the tips of her hair. She looked like an angel, her palms pressed against his chest, fingers curling over his shoulders. He wouldn't mind waking up like this forever.<p>

He silently mused that the Edward that used girls for fulfillment no longer resided inside of him. The Edward brought out by this majestic brown-haired girl had kicked him out the moment she stepped onto that field. Did she remember four years ago? When they had only been kids? He cursed under his breath, realizing she probably did. He'd come into her room and left her. Not because he wanted to, not because he didn't care, but because he was leaving for football in a few weeks and couldn't afford to become too attached to someone. He knew that if he had stayed with Bella, he would have never had the strength to pack his bags and ship out to Green Bay and play professional football, something that had been his dream since he was young. Hek, his first word had been _touchdown_. He regretted not being there when she woke, not saying goodbye to the perfect princess that lay next to him now. He regretted not giving her a chance, not connecting with her and begging her to come with, but fate intervened again and threw them back together. He especially regretted the hastily scrawled not he placed on her nightstand, ready to greet her and ruin her day when she awoke. He had been such a jerk back then, his teenage brain only really wanting two things: sex and a clean break. Since he didn't get the first, he stole the second, not giving her the opportunity to challenge him.

She stirred, mumbling words to low for him to hear. He tightened his arms around her and watched her eyelids flutter open. Those deep brown eyes got to him every time, striking down into his soul. He watched her register his face and gasp quietly, propping herself up on an elbow, gaze flickering between his eyes. "What happened?" she asked cautiously, her voice neutral, expression guarded. She looked so different from the vulnerable girl who had been sleeping. Edward didn't say anything, and she immediately went to the extreme. "Oh, no, no, no. That wasn't supposed to happen. We weren't supposed to sleep—"

Edward put her out of her misery. "That's all we did, Bella. We slept." She put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, exhaling heavily before kicking the covers off. She stood up hastily, nearly tipping over in her hurry. Edward opened his mouth and reached out for her.

"I don't want your help," she snapped, striding toward the door in just her panties and one of Edward's big t-shirts. Edward sat frozen in the bed, watching her rest her hand on the cool metal of the doorknob. Her head was bowed as she stood there for a moment, gaze locked on her toes. Her hair served as a veil between her and Edward, and he hated that he couldn't see her face, that he couldn't read everything in her eyes—not that she'd ever been easy to read. He was nearly breathless when she lifted her head, the hair giving way to an expression of complete and utter serenity, though her eyes were hollow, lifeless. Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, but the words she said reigned loud and clear, echoing in his brain even after she closed the door behind her. "At least this time, you didn't leave."

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><p><em>Yay! Two Chapters in two days :)…don't complain about length...You get two updates in two days...REJOICE!..so you've read now review…HAHA JK…there's more :) Stupid Rant for nothing...oh well (I'm in a weird mood...must be the popcorn I just ate...)<em>

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><p>After several moments of being frozen in bed, he dropped his face into his hands, cursing replacement expletives into his fingers. (AN: Gosh darn son of a potato, etc…) He was suddenly overwhelmed by the quiet in his room, and he pulled himself out of bed, painfully shoving his arms into a hoodie, though his bad one was still encased in the fabric, cradled against the hard planes of his stomach. He needed to get out of the house, to clear his mind from everything.

He pulled his phone from his nightstand. After finding the name in his contacts, he held the electronic up to his ear, listening to the beeping as it dialed and then the painfully slow ringing noises. He was just about to give up after the fifth ring when there was a soft click followed by a groggy, "Hello?" Edward couldn't help the smile that broke across his face. He chatted with the voice on the other end of the phone for less than a minute before hanging up.

He pulled on a pair of gym shorts and peeped out the window, startled by the rain drizzling down the windowpane. It didn't matter to him though. He snatched his keys from the dresser and his cleats from the floor, hanging them over his shoulder by their knotted laces. They bounced familiarly against his back, and for a moment, he forgot about his collar bone, about Emmett, about Bella. He felt peaceful, trotting across the room and yanking the door open. There was an unfamiliar pang in his chest as he glanced silently down the hall toward Isabella's closed and locked door. He brushed it off though, telling himself that it was just because she was the first girl that had ever rejected him. He strode to the kitchen, seeing the orange case of painkillers. The pain in his shoulder had dulled to a slow burn, most likely from those meds he'd been given from the doctor, but he chose to forego the bottle today, wanting to suffer for what he'd done to Bella.

He walked nimbly through the rest of the house, finding himself positioned in front of the steering wheel of his Lincoln. His resolve cracked as he saw his reflection in the rearview mirror. A purple bruise blossomed out across his jaw, somewhat resembling the shape of Emmett's knuckles. The edges were beginning to fade, lightening into the standard, sickly yellow hue. He didn't mind that, he had received plenty of battle wounds, and for some sick reason, he liked them. It was that male bravado, that you-should-see-the-other-guy feeling. He wore bruises and gashes with pride, though the sling was a little much. He would have felt more macho going sans sling and slamming into his enemies, namely James, with his shoulder, spitting into their injured faces that he did all that with a broken clavicle.

No, what hurt him was a little lower, the little marks butterflying on his throat, the valley where his shoulder melted into his neck. He could feel Bella's lips against him, suckling his skin desperately enough to leave those marks. He threw the car into drive, eager to get to where he was going. He couldn't take it anymore. The babying of his family, the coldness of Bella—everything had him feeling weak, vulnerable. He wasn't supposed to _feel_ things. That's why he was a football player. Everything in the stadium was different; he was different. He hit people without feeling guilt. He made mistakes and brushed them off, light as a feather. He couldn't feel pain, at least during the game when he had a strange, euphoric high. The only thing he felt while his cleats dug into the perfectly green grass was resentment, resentment for everyone on that field that wore a different color jersey than he did. That's why he was good at what he did. That's why people all around the United States cheered his name, wore his number, swooned over his looks, hated him. That's why he succeeded. That's why he had no doubt that his team could earn the Packer's fifth Superbowl title. He didn't need Bella as a distraction. He couldn't afford it.

So by the time he was pulling into his marked parking spot at the Packer's practice field, he found himself wondering, _Bella who?_

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><p><strong>Bella<strong>

"Dang it," she muttered angrily. He had no right to make her feel that way. To make her melt under his touch, to make her stomach swarm with butterflies, to make heat flare through her entire body. He had _no right_. She had stormed from his room before he could see the pain etched across her face, before he could attempt to fix the holes he had burned in her heart. She had felt something that night about four years ago, something that seemed like an echo of last night. It was tragic, really, falling for someone that only fell when he was tackled. She crawled into her bed, which was vacant of Edward's warmth and care. A few tears slipped from her eyes, but she forced herself not to cry for long. She wouldn't mourn a love she never had.

Bella wasn't the type to wallow in self pity. Whenever she was knocked over, she'd dust herself off and move on. Just like after that one night with Edward, when her simple-minded teenage brain had thought she'd found love and he'd left. When Jessica and Angela swarmed her with questions of that night, she merely waggled her eyebrows, leaving their overactive imaginations to fill in the rest. She'd come to terms with the fact that she got burned, but kissing Edward like that brought it all back. And this time he didn't leave. "Probably because it was _his _room," she mumbled, sliding to a seated position behind her closed door and tangling her fingers into her hair.

She felt the ache all over again, the eagerness to see his mesmerizing green eyes, the plummet of her stomach when she felt indent in the sheets where he had slumbered was cold. She even allowed herself to finally conjure up the worst part of the memory. She hadn't even remembered this last night, having shoved it so deeply into the recesses of her mind that she nearly had forgotten it completely. It was his bar tab from that night, folded perfectly in half with her name written elegantly across the front, in looping, graceful script that looked like it had leapt out from the very beginning of the twentieth century.

With tear-filled eyes and shaking knees, she crossed her room in Edward's house, flipping open the lid of her unpacked suitcase and fingering the worn paper she'd tucked in her delicates. She dropped it abruptly as if it had scalded her fingers. She didn't want to open it again, to read the words that would shoot a dagger right through any eighteen-year-old girl's heart. She shut her suitcase, hiding the note from Edward and everything else beneath the plain black cover. Her breathing faltered, her fingers quaking as she wrung her hands together. Maybe he had changed. She'd registered hurt in his features when she'd stung him with her words, but she knew very well that he was a good actor. She clamped her hand over her mouth to hold in the whimper that threatened to escape. She didn't want to feel weak, least of all because of Edward Cullen.

Her girlishness made her want to vomit. She was Isabella Marie Swan, the girl who wrestled with her brothers and won, the girl who played with the worms while fishing with Charlie, the girl who could beat anyone that dared to challenge her in a game of poker. She was Bella, ferocious fighter. No one was going to bring her down, ever. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, and she took a moment to collect herself before flipping it open. "Hey, Em," she said, using a fair amount of effort to keep her voice even.

"Belly-B," he breathed, relief flooding into his voice. He hadn't used her nickname since they were children, and it made her smile. She sniffled almost inaudibly and wiped her eyes. "Am I…are we…are you still—" Bella rolled her eyes, thankful that her brother couldn't see through the cell phone.

"Emmett, I forgive you for your overprotective, brotherly instincts." She heard a gust of air as he presumably exhaled the breath he'd been holding. She giggled quietly, muffling the sound with her fingertips.

"Oh, thank God. I thought I was going to be in the doghouse forever." Bella let out a full-blown snort, hearing Emmett's roaring chuckle from the other side of the phone.

"It was two days, bro. Two days!" Emmett's chuckle grew louder, until ultimately dying down, his voice returning to normal. Bella scratched behind her ear, wondering what to say next. Her and her brother were never really talkative over the phone. Both much preferred face-to-face interaction.

"So…you know that cheerleader that I've been seeing…?" His voice drew out the question, as if he was nervous.

"Rosalie?" Emmett and Rosalie had been dating ever since his pro football career had began. The first game he'd come rushing up to Bella and pointed to the extremely blond cheerleader, grinning triumphantly while saying, "She's going to be mine someday, just you wait." There were various pictures of Emmett blowing kisses to the bubbly, charismatic girl while he was supposed to be playing.

"Yeah." His reply came immediately, but it was quiet and followed by nothing. This must mean that it was really serious. Bella waited a moment, wondering how to reassure him that she was his sister and wouldn't judge, though she really didn't hope that she was pregnant. Emmett knew what his father thought of children before Marriage. Emmett was one, and though Charlie never regretted having him, he wished he had married my mother before, a thing he often repeated to his children over the years. The thought of the three Swan children all together made Bella's heart ache for Jasper.

"What about her?" she asked slowly, her voice showing no sign of the nervousness that had bloomed in her chest, unfurling in a big wave of anxiousness for him to just spit out the words. The other end of the line was quiet, except for the even but accelerated breathing of her brother. She sank onto the bed and swung her legs absentmindedly, quiet as she waited for Emmett to tell her the big secret.

"I am going to ask her to marry me." His replay finally came, and even though he had seemed panicky and worried about sharing the news, the words were firm and sure, the love he felt for Rosalie resounding off Bella's eardrums and filling her with joy for her brother.

"That's great, Emmett!" She hoped she'd poured the correct amount of enthusiasm into her words, and by Emmett's laughter, she knew she had. Too bad she couldn't reflect that gusto into her expression. Her face was sullen, her lips tipped downward, eyelids droopy, hair limply falling around her face. She bit her lip, aggravated that Edward had this effect on her.

"I want you to be there when I do," he said abruptly, pulling Bella out of her musings. Her eyebrows furrowed. Weren't declarations of love and requests of holy matrimony supposed to be personal and romantic? She asked Emmett just that, though using a lighter, suggesting tone. Emmett's chortle told her she was wrong. "Well, I guess for everyone else, that is how they are supposed to be. But Rosalie likes everything showy. She likes an audience, and an audience she will get." Rosalie did like to be in the spotlight, and I was actually impressed at how acutely aware Emmett was of Rosalie's likes and wants. He'd never put much thought into his relationships before, but he now often called me to help decide where he should take Rosalie on dates, what he should cook her, what he should buy her, if the flowers he'd chosen were appropriate.

"Good job, big brother," Bella said, a genuine smile on her face. "I'm proud of you." They said their goodbyes soon after that, and Bella was left with the sinking feeling that her own love life was failing, that she was sinking deeper and deeper into the hole that inevitably led to the gray-haired lady that lived with like a hundred cats and had no one to visit her. She rubbed her temples, picking herself up and dragging herself into the shower.

She undressed slowly, waiting until an adequate amount of steam was rolling out from over the glass shower door and collecting in fog against the mirror. She stepped in, the droplets racing in wet paths down her skin. She tilted her head back into the spray and massaged soap through her tendrils, trying to ignore a nagging feeling that tugged on her heart. She didn't think she loved Edward yet, but her heart surely thought that she shouldn't take this so lightly. She was definitely attentive to the fact that Edward was someone that she could be capable of loving, but was he capable of loving her back? She didn't know. Scrubbed herself with a pink loofa sponge, something Carlisle and Esme must have stocked in her bathroom, having told her that all the toiletries would be provided for her. They never said by whom, though. A blush crept up her neck at the possibility that Edward may have picked this out, maybe even for some other girl that had spent the night at his house, being touched by him, loved by him. Suddenly, she wanted every trace of Edward off her skin. She wanted to rid herself of his soft touches, of his warm embraces, of everything. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was pink and smooth and until she was satisfied that he was no longer on her. Then she stayed in the heated water long after the bubbles had swirled down the drain, just to be sure.

She stepped into a fluffy towel a long while later, mystified that the water had never run cold, something that had been her shower timer when she lived at home. She tugged a comb through her tangled locks and brushed her teeth, the bristles harsh against her gums, her lips numb and swollen from last night. She spit the minty foam into the sink, rinsing out her mouth and hopefully Edward along with it. She felt somewhat refreshed, though she still felt that slow, dull burning in her chest.

No matter how much she didn't want to see his emotional green eyes, his tousled-to-perfection bronze hair, she knew she had to grow up and do her job. That's all this was—her job. "If only it was that easy," she shared with her reflection that now appeared as the steam melted away from the mirror. She tossed the towel in the hamper and pulled on her jeans and a Packers' t-shirt. She might as well look the part if she was attempting to play the part. With a calming breath and some chapstick, she slunk out the door and tapped sheepishly on Edward's closed door, wondering what he was doing still in his room. He was probably sleeping off last night if she had to guess. She chose to leave him alone and skipped carefully down the stairs, fully aware that she was in no way and never would be graceful.

She popped the top of Edward's pills when she got to the kitchen and grabbed the prescribed amount. She rummaged through the cabinets, finding a glass and filling it with cool water. She carried the two items up the stairs, using slower, less jerky movements as to not spill the water all over herself. No need to look like she couldn't make it to the bathroom after angrily leaving his room. She made it to the top without making a mess of herself and gently pushed open the door, unused to having doors glide silently on their hinges when at her father's house she had to sneak out via window. "Edward," she said quietly into the expanse of the room. When there was no reply, she stuck her head around the door. It was empty. The bathroom door was open, so she knew that he wasn't in there. Her thoughts strengthened by the unsettling silence of the place. Edward almost always had music playing, or so Esme had said, when asking Bella if she was opposed to having sounds during the night. She, of course, wasn't.

Bella carefully set the glass of water, but shoved the pills into her pocket. Edward's keys were missing from his dresser. He had left the house. She sprinted to the stairwell, fear gripping her chest. Had she hurt him that badly? Was he making bad choices? Gosh, she sounded like a paranoid mother. She ran down the steps, faster than she should have, since her foot caught on the last one, and she went sprawling forward. Her hair flew around her, and her fall was in slow-motion, a cracking noise as the side of her face connected with the hardwood. Lucky for her, she was used to falling, so she was used to the pain. Her shoulder was stiff and hurt a little, but it was probably just stunned. _Shoulder pain._ The thought was loud and prominent. She knew where he was.

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><p><strong>Edward<strong>

The field felt perfect beneath his feet, the perfect amount of cushion and traction. It didn't matter to him that the raindrops were collecting in his hair and on his cheeks. It didn't even matter that in his time of need he'd called a boy he didn't really like. He needed this—needed to feel the ball in his hands, needed to reassure himself that he could actually do something, that his career wasn't over. At first his shoulder had protested. It had hurt so badly that he cried out into the air, Jake's eyes following the ball as it tumbled from his grasp. "Tsk, tsk, Edward. You've become a sparkling, little girl because of this injury. And it's only been what…two days? Line it up again, 21." Edward grunted in response, chucking the slick ball back to the dark-skinned boy and getting into his position again. "Hut!"

Edward took off. _Fake left, go right_. His internal voice guided him easily through the plays, but his body didn't respond like it usually did. Pumping his arms hurt, so he in turn had to pump harder, put more effort into it to simply get to the spot. And then catching the ball was a complete other task. He'd dropped it five times in a row, and as this one dropped two inches in front of his fingertips, Jake called out in a loud condescending voice, "Six, Cullen!" Edward scrubbed his hands over his face, shifting his gaze toward where Bella would be sitting if this were a real practice. But it wasn't, and he had to forget about her.

He lined up again, a new-found vigor coursing though his veins. Even her name could get him all riled up. She was his own personal drug. She could lift his spirit up and make him forget the world, and that was something he couldn't forget. He easily maneuvered the play, snatching the ball effortlessly as he soared toward the end zone. He let out a loud whoop as he crossed the white line, seen Jake's white smile from the other end of the field. "Welcome back, Superstar. Now, again." Edward jogged back to Jacob, a goofy grin pulling at his lips. He really could do this. He really could play. _Hut!_ He took off again, his cleats slipping in the grass but not hindering his agility and speed.

He was in his element, completely in the zone. This was who he was, who he was meant to be. Sure, his father was an acclaimed doctor, sure his mother had been a successful lawyer, but he wasn't meant to be something boring, something intellectual. He wasn't given his looks and his talents to sit behind a desk or be only viewed by the sickly. No, Edward Anthony Mason Cullen was meant to be put up on Jumbotrons. He was meant to be celebrated, adored. He didn't need love when he had all the devoted fans he wanted. Any girl in the stands on game days would be eager to satisfy his needs, and maybe even a few men...well, if he swung that way. Edward was meant to be the poster child for something great, something bigger than his father's appointments or surgeries, something bigger than his good-for-nothing mother's cases. He was Edward Cullen. Wearing number 21 on the green and white jerseys, he was the Packer's starting wide receiver. He was famous.

The ball was securely in his scarred hands before an angry voice echoed off the walls, making him jump and fumble the ball. "Edward! What the hek are you doing?"

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><p><strong>Bella<strong>

If Bella could have dragged that boy off the field by his ear, she would have. Her face was as red as a tomato, when she stomped across the field. "Bell," Jake started, and no matter how much Bella loved her childhood friend, she couldn't be bothered with sill pet names right now.

"Go home, Jake," she growled between gritted teeth, deadly gaze still locked on Edward's deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression. She heard him begin to protest, but made a dramatic sweeping gesture toward the door, hearing Jacob's feet crunch in the grass as he conceded. She thrust her hands on her hips and willed Edward's scattered gaze to hers. The way he lifted his hands up guiltily only made her angrier. "Edward! What were you thinking? My job is to keep you safe. My _job_! If I fail, I'll be living on the streets. Homeless!" She knew that was an exaggeration, but she wanted to make him feel bad.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I just wanted to feel important again." Bella released a disbelieving laugh.

"Important? Edward, it's important to thousands of fans that you heal! That you can carry the team through playoffs!" His kissable lips tilted up into a smirk. Did she just describe his lips a kissable? Oh yeah, she was screwed. "What?" she asked exasperatedly, though her voice wavered slightly when he stepped closer.

"You think I carry the team?" He bit his lip adorably, and Bella's knees wobbled. _He only falls when he's tackled. Only falls when tackled. Only falls when tackled. Only falls when tackled. _She repeated over and over in her head. It would be her new mantra. She'd have it tattooed to her arm if she couldn't remember it.

"Well, um, according to, um, Emmett," she rubbed the back of her neck nervously, keeping her eyes down, "you are a crucial element in winning." She finally looked up, seeing that panty-dropping smirk still plastered on his face.

"I see, and the only people I'm important to are my fans?" She could see the glint of mischief sparkling in his green eyes, and her face heated, though this time not from anger.

"Well, no, you're important to the team and, um, the coach and, um, the hotdog vendors—"

"The hotdog vendors? Seriously, Bella?" She looked down bashfully, scuffing her shoe in the damp grass of the field. The torrent raged around them, whipping Bella's hair into her eyes and merely mussing Edward's more perfectly, if that was even possible. Her shirt was soaked and clung to her skin, and wet locks of hair plastered themselves to her cheeks and neck.

"Well, yeah. Without games they would have no fans to sell their goods to and—"

"God, Bella. Am I not important to you?" She blushed more furiously, her face almost resembling the rogue color of the darkest blush available in Walmart. Her gaze danced around the field as she avoided the truth.

"Yeah. You are my job. I have to make you one of my top priorities."

"Bella, you know that I don't mean it like that—"

"Why did you leave that night four years ago?" She couldn't help it. Her countering question burst from her lips before it could be stopped, though it didn't seem to faze Edward, who remained silent. She plunged forward anyways. "Why did you leave me with that stupid not that said, and I quote, 'I will never fall in love.' Now you have the audacity to stand there and happily ask if you are important to me!"

Bella finally allowed her gaze to rest on his face, and the smile there made her stomach churn. "Is that a yes?" His voice was laced with humor, but she sensed a serious undertone. She mashed her lips together.

"God, Edward. You are so immature and self-centered and, and—" His mouth against hers broke her train of thought. Her eyes were open, and she was repulsed by her body's automatic reaction to lean toward him, by her need to be closer to him, by her want to melt into him and never have to be alone again. Mustering all her strength, she shoved him away, shouting very vulgar, very unladylike words in his face. His hands immediately grabbed hers, which were wildly gesturing every which way in an attempt to make her words slice harder. She stopped when she saw the look on his face. Was that, was that remorse in his eyes? So Edward Cullen did feel things after all. Who knew? She wrenched her fingers from his and watched his arms fall to his sides.

"Bella, leaving you that night was the worst mistake of my life."

"Yeah, well then why did you do it?"

"I was scared." His eyes were trained on the ground, and she just wanted him to look her in the eyes, make her believe that it was true.

She snorted unkindly. "Edward Cullen, professional football player that gets tackled by guys three times his size. Edward Cullen, uncaring prick that's scared of falling for a girl that's less than half his size. Who are you? You can't be both."

He was silent for a moment, as if processing her words, though her looked slightly offended by the term _prick_. He lifted his head, and his eyes flickered between hers, before settling on her right one. "But I am." He reached out and gently gripped Bella's shoulders, standing nearly a head taller than her. "I was afraid of something so real. My parents never had a good relationship and what else was I supposed to know of love? There was fighting and screaming and crying all the time at my house. How was I supposed to know it could be different? I didn't want that for myself, but more importantly, I didn't want that for you. I didn't want you to see the rage I saw in my father's eyes when my mother would come home drunk with a man latched to her hip. I didn't want to be like my father, but I thought it was inevitable." Bella's mouth opened and closed, curious but not ready to forgive.

He continued, unnerved by her speechlessness. "I left because I knew I would be leaving soon for football anyways. I didn't want you to lose sight of your dreams for me, whatever they were. I didn't know you very well—I still would like to know you better—and even back then I didn't want to drag you down." Bella continued to toe the ground. "Say something, Bella. Please." He was pleading with her, begging her to say the words he needed to hear, to give him her forgiveness. Tears stung her eyes as she said the three words that had been nagging at her heart for four years, full out punching their way out of her mouth after his speech.

"You still left."

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><p><em>Pretty sure this is my longest update ever...you're welcome...sorry for the mistakes...you know...I could revise my writing...but that would mean it could take me hours, possibly days, to update...and we wouldn't want that...now would we ;) So...what did you think? How was the multi-POV chapter...I might do that sometimes...do you mind? And now...we will be building Bedward's...Edella's...*sigh* Edward and Bella's (much better...screw couple's names...) relationship! Whoooo and I got EMMETT AND ROSALIE IN THERE! WHOOOOOOO! next is Jasper and Alice (sparks fly at the engagement dinner *winky winky*) Jeez I'm strange...and props for you if you're reading all this! <em>

_Touch the review button if you're_

_A) Riding a sparkling unicorn._

_B) Dancing with alligators in Alabama_

_C) Human_

_Thanks for reading...and reviewing *another wink* I've been told I'm very good at winks so I use them at any time possible ;) __- see? like that :P...sooo ~All My Love, Lovelies_


	10. Chapter 10

_I'm back, lovelies! :) My vacations were funnnnnnn...whoooo...so...WARNING: MANY MISTAKES...with that said...enjoy :)_

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><p>The words hung between them like the smoky haze of breath exhaled into chilled air. The torrent raged around her, roaring in her ears, blinding her of everything except <em>him<em>. Each bead of rain that splattered against her skin felt like the prick of a pin. Her shoes sank into the dampening ground, soaking through the thin mesh and muddying her socks. A chill crept up her back as her clothes clung to her skin, hair plastered against her forehead and cheeks.

She watched silently as his face fell, as the glimmer of the flame of hope in his eyes flickered before being extinguished. She watched his lips part to say something, saw his fingers itch to reach toward her. She saw all of this, and she ran. Puddles sloshed up onto her pants, her hair blocked what little was left of her sight, but she didn't slow down. Her heart cracked when he called her name, his voice a shout of agony. She turned around one last time, seeing him stare after her, green eyes wide. She'd never been so thankful for the rain before. Because when it was raining, nobody could see your tears.

X.O.X.O.X

She groped for the key where she knew it was hidden in the plant, frustrated as she pushed her hair out of her eyes and jammed the jagged edge into the lock, willing the door open with a protesting groan. Charlie wouldn't be home. He spent most of his time with Billy Black, catching up on their fondest memories with a can of beer and a bag of chips. For once, she was thankful for his absence. She kicked off her sopping shoes, leaving them on the porch and stomping into the kitchen, dripping raindrops and tears onto the linoleum floor. Leaning against the counter, everything was so familiar. The shapes and colors of the aged appliances, the chips and cracks in the countertops, the rusty hinges and askew cabinet doors—it was normal, comforting even. Best of all, it was nothing like the high-scale kitchen she used at Edward's house.

She wrung out her t-shirt in the sink, watching the liquid swirl down the drain before hanging it over a chair. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the hallway mirror, cringing away from the Bella that peered back at her. Gone were her curious eyes, her pink cheeks and small smile. Instead, her face was stiff from the salt of her tears, her eyes swollen and red. The pain she was feeling was bringing back her savage memories from so long ago. She couldn't do that to herself. Flinching away from the reflective surface, she combed her fingers through her hair, feeling the familiar pull of untangling knots, shivering as droplets of rain dripped down her bare back, racing each other to the floor.

What was Edward Cullen doing to her? Had she been silly to accept the position knowing full well who Edward Cullen was? What he could do? She gripped the back of the chair tightly, the knuckles of her hands turning even whiter with the pressure. She looked down at her side, seeing the long and thin pink scars that littered her abdomen. Images flashed across her mind. Cold blue eyes eying her appreciatively. The glint of a knife blade shivering in the moonlight. There was a loud thump, and Bella soon realized that it was her falling to the ground. She tried to clamber back to a standing position, but it was too light. The nightmares were encompassing her, leaving her to try to claw free of the brutality.

_"Hey, Belly-B," the boy with the kind smile said from behind the counter. Bella returned his grin as she started in his direction, passing aisle after aisle of camping and hiking equipment. His blond hair was cropped short from his summer at boot camp, his blue eyes sparkling with delight. Everything around her stopped as she ran at him, watching his arms spread wide to engulf her in his embrace. _

_ The arms surrounding her were so familiar, yet so different. They had the same funny freckles dotting the tanned skin, the same silly scar from falling off the swings when he was twelve. Yet, they were stronger, filled out with thick muscle. His blue veins were more pronounced, his fingernails broken and dirty, but he was still Mike. He was still hers. She rested her cheek against the rough canvas of his uniform, tracing the letters of his name patch with her fingertips, feeling his kneading into the small of her back. "I missed you," she mumbled into his chest, feeling his even breaths below her face. He seemed to have grown over the summer, but he still smelled exactly as Mike always had, manly with the tiniest hint of vanilla. _

_ She felt him plant a kiss on her temple before he pulled back. "Did you?" His eyes were genuinely concerned that she didn't miss him. His expression darkened for a moment, but her quickly covered it up with a smile. She felt her curls brush her shoulders as she nodded quickly, feeling his fingers tighten around her upper arms and lead her into the storage room. It was Mike's mother's shop, someplace they'd always been together, especially when they had the same work hours in high school. _

_ The lock clicked as he turned a key in the handle, shoving the door open and springing the dust motes free. Bella had to hold her breath to prevent herself from coughing as she followed him into the dimly lit room. The door shut with a dull thud behind the pair, shrouding them in darkness momentarily before Mike reached up and pulled the chain connected to a naked bulb. A yellow, flickering light pierced her eyes, illuminating shelves of cardboard boxes. The storage room was five degrees colder than the rest of the store. Bella shivered._

_ There was a rustling that drew her attention back to Mike, his usually content expression now replaced with a more somber one. "Bella," he said, letting out a shaking breath. It blew over her skin, warm in comparison to the room. "I've come to realize that I, I love you." Bella stopped breathing momentarily, watching him twitch uncontrollably, something he did when he was nervous. They'd never said those words before, not even before he left for basic training. Bella felt her own eyes widen and did her best to shield her shock. _

"_I, I love you, too," she quickly replied, blinking away her doubts. His mouth lifted into a small smile, and he stepped closer to her, reaching one hand into his pocket and bringing the other to the hem of his jacket._

"_When I was at Basic, I realized that even more, and I, I just wanted to profess my love for you." She stared in horror as he lifted the edge of his uniform, puckered, red lines spelling out the letters of her name, flakes of crimson blood at the edges._

"_Mike!" she yelled, lifting the fabric up to expose even more. Hearts and stars and other crude images were carved into the once smooth flesh of his belly. She gingerly reached out and touched one of the marks. "What have you done to yourself?" She splayed her fingers across a tracing of a handprint, it matched hers exactly, and she shied into the wall._

"_Shhh, Belly-B. All the guys at their girls are doing it. This is what love is." The way he said it, so sure, so confident, made Bella want to vomit. _

"_Mike, love isn't pain." She watched his other hand emerge from his pants' pocket, a small Swiss Army knife clutched in his fingers. She backed flat up against the wall, his eyes boring down on her face. He pressed his hips against hers, firmly holding her against the wall as he raised her shirt, discarding it to the side before flipping open the blade and resting the cool metal against her smooth flesh._

"_Isn't it, Belly-B?"_

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><p><strong>Edward<strong>

"Emmett!" he hollered, his fist banging against the wood of the door. "Gosh, darn it! EMMETT, OPEN THE DANG DOOR!" He beat it harder, his control slipping a little with each connection. He was mid-swing when the door swung open, revealing a rather mussed looking Emmett. His short, dark hair was tangled and knotted, his lips slightly puffier than normal, his shirt missing. There was a look of annoyance on his face.

"Can this wait? I'm kind of busy." Edward pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger, really not wanting Emmett to elaborate on what _busy _meant. Without asking for permission, Edward shoved his way past his best friend, hearing something being mumbled about the black eye making Edward lose his manners. He stalked to the kitchen of the apartment, throwing himself into the nearest chair and resting his head in his arms.

"I messed up, bro," he said, the crook of his elbow doing nothing to soften the pain in his voice.

He heard Emmett come over and sink down next to him, giving him an awkward pat on the back, which Edward shrugged off. "Come on, man. You know as well as I do that that shot was cheap." Edward tilted his head toward his friend, giving him a what-the-hek look. "We are talking about your football career. Aren't we?" Edward slapped his palm against the table, scooting back the chair and getting to his feet in one swift motion.

"No, Emmett! I am _not_ talking about football anymore. I don't even care about football! If this dang sling ends my career, you know what? I don't care! All I can think about is her! And I messed it up!" He exhaled, his shoulders shaking with inner rage. He dropped his gaze to injured arm and sighed. "I messed it all up."

Emmett's face had paled, his eyes widening at Edward's sudden outburst. "Aw, man. I have no idea what to say. I—"

"You don't have to say _anything_, Emmett," Edward said, lifting his green gaze to his friend's. "You just have to tell me where she is." Confusion was prominent in the huskier friend's features.

"She…" Edward scrubbed his hands over his face, his nostrils flaring with irritation.

"Bella, Emmett. I want to know where Bella is." This time, Edward dodged the fist, expertly ducking to avoid the connection. As Emmett steadied himself, having been thrown off balance by his punch, he glared down Edward. A flash of blond appeared from Emmett's bedroom door, and Edward's eyebrows pinched together.

"You're breaking the bro-code by doing this," Emmett said in a measured tone, hauling Edward back to a standing position. Edward shook off his friend's touch, still staring at the girl in the doorframe, dressed in one of Emmett's t-shirts that fit her like a dress.

"Just tell me where I can find her, Emmett. Please." He tore his gaze away from the tall girl with blond curls to plead with his friend, his hand clamping down on his shoulder. Emmett stood motionless for a moment, glaring at Edward. Edward could see the ripples of his tense muscles, the bead of sweat condensing on his temple, the pulse of his vein in his forehead.

Through gritted teeth, Emmett growled, "You don't get to fall in love with my sister, Edward." Emmett looked taken aback when Edward simply chuckled, his eyes skimming over the curious girl again, amazed that the world really was in fact small. "Why the hek are you laughing, Edward? Are you a lunatic?"

Edward chuckled once more before clearing his throat, nodding his head in the direction of Emmett's bedroom, where the girl had disappeared to. "Now, Emmett, your command seems to be very hypocritical. You gave me this black eye because you thought that your sister was coming home with me. Just now you were about to make my face symmetrical because I am falling in love with your sister. Why is it that I can't love your sister, but you can love mine?"

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><p><em>Muahahaha...anybody remember the "Mike" incident from the first chapter...:) I'm evil...alright...review, lovelies...<em>


	11. Chapter 11

_:) Hey! I missed you guys! Didya miss me? :) haha soooo...new chapter...yay! annnd I'm thinking of starting a FictionPress story...anyone interested in reading it? I want to have readers if I'm going to do it so...yeah...now...ENJOY :)_

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><p>Edward sprinted from Emmett's house to the Lincoln that was parked illegally on the street. There was still a hint of a smile on his face. Emmett and Rosalie—he certainly did not see that one coming. He slid into the driver's seat, thankful that they police hadn't decided to strap a boot to his front tire or slide a ticket under his windshield wiper. The steady hum of his engine broke fell into rhythm with the hum of downtown Green Bay, horns and shouts emanating from either side of the street.<p>

He woke up his iPhone and glanced down at the address Emmett had punched into the notes. Edward entered the letters and numbers into the car's GPS system, remembering how Emmett had scowled in his direction while patently asking Rosalie to go back into the other room. What a psycho. Shaking his head, Edward flicked on his blinker and pulled out onto the busy street, weaving in and out of traffic like a madman. He needed Bella to understand, to at least let him try again.

The little house was all the way on the other side of town, and it was at least twenty minutes later by the time Edward arrived. In his mind, that was twenty minutes too long to be away from Bella. He swiftly pulled into the driveway and shuddered at the grinding sound the gears made when he threw it into park.

The building was falling apart. The deck was made of rotten wood. A few shutters dangled from where they had once been nailed into the siding. Paint peeled and fell off the walls in heavy, white flakes, dotting the ground like snow. Bella lived here? He blinked before realizing he was still buckled into his car. The click of the seatbelt made him cringe. The house looked deserted. No lights were on in the building, and even the crickets seemed to be silent on this stretch of land. He scratched his neck, feeling heated anger toward Emmett for giving him a faulty address. Maybe a murderer hid here. Maybe a lunatic fan wanted to lure him into the woods so that—his horror-movie-material thoughts were broke off by a scream. It was high and loud, seeping out through the open windows of the run-down home.

A murder definitely lived here.

Edward sprung into action, hoping his valiance wouldn't end up getting him killed. The shattered silence threw all the animals into motion. Chipmunks scurried up trees that had been vacated by startled birds. Frogs hopped into puddles left by the rain that still drizzled down from the sky, and dogs up the street barked loudly as owners hollered from porches for them to be quiet.

He reached the front door in four easy steps and threw it open, startled by the mudroom, that although was messy, had no trace of dust on the items inside. Wet shoes were sitting askew on the floor, footprints trailing in through the door, muddy from the rain. Maybe it wasn't just a deserted house. "No!" a usually soft voice cried from inside the house, her sobbing following the outburst. He silently apologized for doubting Emmett before hurtling through the doorframe, finding himself surrounded by a well-loved kitchen. Bella's t-shirt was hanging over the back of a chair, drenched and dripping onto the ground below.

"Stop!" His auburn hair flew into his eyes as he whipped his head toward the sound, his mouth parting in horror. Bella lay sprawled on the floor, glassy eyes staring vacantly into the spot of air above her. Sweat had collected in tiny droplets on her forehead, and clumps of hair were pasted against her neck and shoulders. She rolled around while moaning in pain, her pale arms outstretched as if she were trying to push someone away. None of this pained Edward as much as the sight of her bare abdomen. Without her shirt, he could see the smattering of scars that encrusted her flat stomach. They were long, and short, and thick, and thin, and puckered, and smooth. There were so many of them, all at different slants and angles. Some made shapes, others looked just like slash marks cutting across her skin, and Edward felt the pain from each one of them. Had she done this to herself?

He reached out to her, taking her hands and gently pulling them to her sides. "Bella?" He said her name as gently as he could, hoping not to startle her further. She screamed loudly and thrashed violently on the floor. "Bella, wake up." She didn't move, her eyes not even looking at his face as she made to shove him away. Edward easily sidestepped the attack, reaching down to hoist her into his arms. He'd left his sling at the field, and cradling her in his arms had no affect on his shoulder, probably due to the amount of adrenalin pumping through his system. He remembered where her bedroom was, remembered the purple comforter that kept her warm at night, remembered the dinosaur of a computer crammed into the corner. He carried her up there, setting her carefully on the bed as she squirmed and protested, her voice flooded with agony.

He left her there, yanking open drawer after drawer before emerging with a dry, holey t-shirt. He pulled it over Bella's head, carefully sliding her pants down her legs and depositing them on the floor. He replaced them with a pair of gym shorts he found in another drawer, ignoring the fact that he'd just seen almost all of her without being aware. He blushed at that, pulling back the soft purple blanket and drawing it over her shivering frame, tucking it firmly around her. She whimpered as he brushed back a few tendrils of hair and placed a kiss on her forehead. Her chest was heaving up and down with exertion, her eyes staring at nothing. He dropped to his knees beside her bed, engulfing her tiny hand with his.

"Bella," he said gruffly, feeling his own sense of alarm leak into his words, "it's alright. You'll be okay." He watched her head tip in his direction, though her eyes seemed to pass right through him. A haunting smile graced her lips.

"Oh," she said dazedly, "Edward, you came back." She fumbled down her shirt for something, and before Edward realized what was going on, her hand recoiled with a note clamped between her fingertips. "I'm glad you didn't leave me with this silly note." He reached out and took it, seeing Bella's eyelids slip shut and her mouth part slightly. Her breathing evened out as Edward read the words written in his own hand from so long ago. He had been a child back then, worried and afraid. He crunched the note in his palm and stuffed it into the front pocket of his jeans. Why was Bella reliving her past? He sank down into the rocking chair across the room, peering between her sheer curtains at the yard below.

The grass had long turned brown, the leaves dropping from their branches in brown, red, and orange hues. He sighed, his fingers still playing with the piece of paper hidden behind his jeans. The last time he'd been here, it had been late summer. The grass was soft and green and overflowing with colorful flowers that Bella had planted in an attempt to cheer up her father since it was the anniversary of his wedding with his ex-wife. The tree had more leaves and hadn't looked so dry. An old, orange truck had been parked in the driveway next to his sleek car. The most profound difference was the fact that he'd been leaving back then, and now, he really didn't want to go.

So he didn't. He just sat there, in the squeaky rocking chair, anxiously rubbing his slick hands against his jeans as he waited for her to wake up. He waited, and waited. He heard the front door open and close. He heard heavy footsteps clomp up the stairs and into the bedroom across the hall. He watched the sunlight morph into darkness. He eyed the picture frames that dotted Bella's room, her smiling face contained behind the glass. The quietest voice broke him out of his musings. "Edward?" He stood up from the chair, knocking it back a couple of inches with the motion.

He crossed the room to her, his footsteps fairly silent since he'd removed his heavy shoes. She looked up at him with the blanket pulled up to her chin, her big, brown eyes boring into his steady green gaze. "You stayed." Edward sighed and scratched the back of his neck.

"How many times do you have to wake up with me beside you before you realize that I'm not leaving anymore?" He watched Bella intake a breath, scooting over to make more space on her full-sized bed. Edward gratefully stretched out beside her, lacing his fingers behind his head.

"Hopefully forever," she mumbled, and Edward wasn't sure he was supposed to hear that. He couldn't slow the grin that stretched across his face. The room seemed to still as Edward boldly reached out and tucked Bella into his shoulder, his arm wrapped behind her. "But Edward…your…shoulder…" she protested lamely between the kisses Edward was peppering her face with. She was giving him a second chance, and that was the thing he wanted most in the world. He shook his head once, leaning down to kiss along the line of her collarbone.

"Other arm," he murmured against her skin, loving the humming sounds that escaped her lips. Their legs automatically tangled at the foot of the bed, and her breathing became labored as she twisted her fingers into his long, coppery hair. The scent of her washed over him—vanilla mixed with rain. It was perfect. Her fingers tugged on his locks to bring his face to hers. He paused a centimeter before their lips met, pausing to allow his eyes to dance between hers, looking for any doubt swimming beneath the chocolaty surface. He didn't find any, and he smiled crookedly, bringing his hands up to cup her face, his thumbs grazing her cheekbones.

The kiss was all desperation, with clashing teeth and fumbling tongues. Her wet lips slipped off of his, and their laughter rumbled into each other's mouths. Bella tugged at the hem of Edward's t-shirt and moaned. He wanted it off too. He let her fingers explore his abdominal muscles as he lifted the shirt over his head, her lips kissing the hard planes of his chest during the momentary split of their kiss. His skin tingled wherever her lips touched, his breath hitching as she skimmed her nails inside the band of his athletic shorts.

Eyes widening in shock, he took her hand and weaved his fingers through hers, feeling her smile against his mouth. He released it was she lifted her own shirt upward, the fabric falling to the floor with a whoosh. Edward grunted. "Shhhhh," she said, placing a finger on her lips. "You'll wake my dad!" Edward chuckled deeply.

"Déjà vu, huh?" Bella nodded, her hair tickling his cheeks and neck as her fingers played with his. He brought his lips back to hers, his hands exploring the newly exposed skin. They grazed a raised, rough scar, and his long, pianist fingers froze. The scars—he'd forgotten about the scars. Bella noticed his hesitation and pulled away, reaching down to the floor for her discarded t-shirt. "No," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back toward him.

"They always freak out about the scars. They say they are ugly. It's okay, Edward. I should have expected it." She tried to squirm away from him again, but Edward was having none of it. He pushed her shoulders down so that she was laying flat against the bed, her arms bent at the elbows and her legs splayed out below her. He hovered above her, staring at her face in puzzlement.

"Bella, I'm not afraid of your scars." She huffed in disbelief, reaching up to push him off. He captured her wrist and kissed the inside of it. "They're beautiful." Her hollow laugh echoed off the walls of the room, sending a shiver down Edward's spine.

"Of course they are ugly, Edward. A girl's skin is supposed to be silky smooth not…not puckered and red." She again attempted to shimmy from Edward's grasp, but he held her tight.

"Maybe a girl's skin should be like that, but Bella, you are not a girl. You are this…this confident, miraculous, gorgeous woman that has had her fair share of experiences. The scars are one of them." She shook her head wildly back and forth, and he could tell she was trying not to cry. A tear escaped, and he captured it with a kiss, selfishly inhaling all of Bella he could.

"You. Really. Think. So?" she asked between huffs, her eyes watering even more. Edward nodded, tucking a rebellious lock of brown hair behind her ear. She released a heavy sigh, the motion moving Edward's hair. He grazed the pads of his thumb across her exposed stomach, tracing the patterns and designs of slash marks cutting brutally into her flesh. The only sound was the soft sound of their breathing. Edward could tell that the heat of his gaze on her was melting away her anxiety. She finally relaxed into his fingertips, her eyes following them wherever they went.

He brushed his fingers along her ribs, hearing her heavy inhalation at the sensation. His thumb teased at the underwire of her bra, rubbing back and forth along them metallic piece. Bella whimpered quietly from below him, scrabbling to unhook the clasp behind her. Edward caught her hands and held them up to his lips. "Are you going to tell me about the scars?" She blinked up at him as he looked down at her expectantly. He slowly watched her deliberate within herself, debating whether she should tell him or keep it all bottled inside.

"Nobody knows." Her response was hushed, and her eyes fell from his, staring at the hard indents of his abs. Her fingers followed her gaze.

"I would like to know." She sighed, and for a moment, Edward thought she was going to get up and leave. Just leave him in her bed the same way he had left her. It was a shock to him when she slowly nodded, a blush rising to her cheeks. He rolled off of her, and she scrambled into his arms, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck as she told him the story.

He sat there patiently as she talked about Mike Newton. He tried not to tense when she talked about telling him she loved him. He held her tighter when she told him how Mike had cut her over and over again with the knife. By the time she was done, the sun was peaking over the horizon, and Edward's shirt was soaked through with tears. His fingers rubbed soothing circles onto her back as she slept, and two hours later, the front door slammed open then closed. Charlie was gone again. Bella began to stir from the noise, her fingers clutching his t-shirt as she tried to pull him closer, even though space was nonexistent between them. "Bella," he whispered, shoving her away awkwardly since she was clawing his chest. "Ouch, Bella, stop." He couldn't help but laugh when her sleeping form pouted. "Wake up," he said through his chuckling, watching her eyelids slowly lift. He grinned at her and set her aside as she stood up. "Breakfast time for the lady?" he inquired, quirking an eyebrow at Bella's half-nakedness. She blushed, pulling a t-shirt over her head before nodding.

"Mmmm…make me pancakes." Edward snorted.

"Pancakes are a girlie food, Bella. Men do not make pancakes. You get eggs." She cocked her head to the side before shrugging and following him down the narrow staircase.

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><p><em>Bam...you're welcome...they are together now...hopefully a sadistic, ex-boyfriend doesn't come into the picture :) Yes...I do enjoy being evil...Please review :) Thanks, lovelies!<br>~BallinBlonde21_


	12. Chapter 12

_Eep! Update! Yay! Sorry guys...I've been super busy..and four hour volleyball practices started today...so I'm going to be even more busy...:( but I decided to get this up before I had to wake up at 6:30 tomorrow morning...you're welcome for my awesomeness :) anyways...if you are a _My Love Is Basketball _reader, could you hop on over to _My Love Is Time _and review a song so I can get an update...__and if you aren't a _My Love Is Basketball _reader...read it :) If you wanna of course...I really liked writing that and can't wait to get the sequel started...but I have to finish the _My Love Is Time _do-hicky (since I really don't know what to call it) and I need a song to update it...k thanks...unicorns and rainbows for all...and maybe fluffy previews and sneak peeks? Yes...I'm bribing you...I'm desperate...okay...so without further adue...if you chose to read that...enjoy :)_

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><p>"Eight…Nine…Ten," Bella counted aloud, pressing the button on the top of her stopwatch and frowning at the results. "Two seconds to slow…again," she commanded without looking up from the numbers on the screen. She heard Edward grumble something about women belonging in kitchens and absentmindedly recounted his reps, listening to the heavy puffs of breath with every lift of the hand weight.<p>

Gray light flooded into the room from the big, picturesque windows that lined the walls of the Packer's training facility. A stereo blasted a loud rock song into the otherwise silent atmosphere, the bass vibrating the floor. Bella fought back the urge to scold another NFL player as he leaned over to crank the dial. Who knew this job could destroy her eardrums?

"Nine…Ten," Bella droned, her thumb pressing the button with a beeping noise. The time froze on the screen, and she sighed audibly, tucking a lock of brown hair behind her ear. There was a clunk as the weight slipped from Edward's hands, his curse resounding through the half-full room. "Edward, seriously, if you don't get it this time, you're coach is going to have me canned. Again." She opened her mouth to tally his lifts. She gasped as vibrant green eyes filled her vision, the mischievous twinkle as evident in his eyes as in his crooked smile.

"You know," he purred, bringing up his fingers to twirl a lock of chocolate hair, "if I didn't know better, I'd think you were making me repeat these exercises for your own enjoyment." Bella bit her lip, eyeing Edward's tousled appearance. His hair was mussed, the auburn locks sticking up in every direction. Beads of sweat trickled the firm bicep of his unharmed arm, and she allowed her mind to wander to the image of him curling the weight, his muscle flexing, the veins in his arm prominent with his strain. She inwardly swooned at the focused look in his eyes, the concentrated furrow of his eyebrow as he worked to finish inside the allotted time limit.

"Maybe you don't know better," she whispered, leaning in closer and stretching up onto her tiptoes. Edward seemed to follow her, his arms reaching around and bracing themselves on either side of the wall she was backed up against. She was about to protest about the strain on his shoulder when her eyes raked downward, seeing his bare torso, the sexy _V_ that disappeared into the waistband of his black Nike shorts. _Down, girl_, she commanded, shoving away the thought of jumping him in the middle of his teammates. _Though he probably wouldn't mind—Stop it, Bella! Stop!_ She looked up to see his head cocked to the side, a curious look present on his face.

His head leaned in closer, his lips brushing up her jawbone, lingering against her ear. She felt his lips move, forming the words as he said them. "What are you thinking about?" A shaky breath escaped her lips.

_You naked and sweating on the floor_…_preferably on top of—_"Just you getting those reps down," she said with a smile, slamming down on the love-stricken teenager that resided within her. She pushed him lightly away but failed to make him move even a millimeter. A low growl escaped his throat as he pressed his lips to hers, exhaling loudly and allowing her to inhale his sweet, distinct scent. He pulled away, smirking at her blush as catcalls emanated around the room.

"Liar." He pushed off the wall and turned on his heel, giving Bella a nice view of his butt as he strutted back to the weight bench. Begrudgingly, Bella trailed, the eyes of Edward's teammates following her as if asking whether she was going to take that or not. A feral grin played at her lips as she positioned herself in front of Edward, unzipping the hoodie she was wearing slightly so that he could get a nicer view of the flimsy tank top beneath.

He was straddling the bench, and Bella leaned down, placing her hands on the open space between his knees. She saw his gaze leave hers, falling to the lettering that was now exposed. The tank top was from the Pink line at Victoria's secret, and surprisingly, all of their Packer's gear had twenty-one written on it somewhere. On this one, it happened to be front and center, the big, white letters stark against the green fabric. If Edward was worried that she was wearing his number, he didn't show it, smiling slightly and reaching out for Bella's legs. She slammed her hand against the bench. "Again." She nodded in the direction of the discarded weight, looking back at him expectantly.

There was a chuckle from his teammates as Edward glared, effortlessly snatching the object from the ground and curling it, his muscles having taken on a newfound vigor. Bella clicked start on the stopwatch and rocked back on her heels, taking a moment to ogle the boy sitting before her. He was too entranced in beating the clock that he couldn't see her appraising the fluid movements of his muscles, the curve of his lips, the set of his jaw, his lickable jaw. She snapped out of reverie when her monotonous counting voice reached ten. Her eyes automatically flitted to the stopwatch, as Edward's hand wrapped around the back of her knees and caused her to tumble onto his lap. A high-pitched squeal broke from her mouth as she fell into his arms, his fingertips playing along the neckline of her revealing tank top. "Who's number is this?" He was absently tracing the numbers, his fingers igniting flames along her skin even through the fabric.

"Oh, you know, just some super famous guy that every girl is vying for." Edward arched his perfectly sculpted eyebrows, something that he'd assured Bella was natural, though he confided in her that he did enjoy the occasional mani-pedi after ballet class. Bella had snorted out loud at that one.

"Oh, really?" his voice mimed incredulousness. "And are you, you know, vying for this guy, too?" Bella shrugged, scrunching up her nose a little, not oblivious to the snickers that floated around their perfect bubble.

"Nah. I mean, he's totally gorgeous, but he's got the _cockiest_ attitude." She giggled along with the rest of the room, but Edward remained unperturbed. His steady green gaze was locked on hers as he reached down and laced their fingers together.

"You think that I'm gorgeous?" His best smirk was on full display as he batted his eyelashes at her, kissing the air suggestively.

Bella rolled her eyes and swatted away his pucker lips, unhooking their linked fingers. Edward pouted slightly as she lifted herself off the bench. "Of course that is all that would get around that inflated ego of yours." Edward grinned wickedly, lifting himself up off the bench and reaching to put his sling back on.

"What did you say? I can't hear you around my awesomeness." He wrapped his good arm around Bella's waist and planted a firm kiss against her lips. Bella wrinkled her nose, and Edward chuckled, bringing her face in for another, slower one. If any of the other football players were opposed to this public display of affection, they didn't speak up, but judging by the whoops and hollers, they were enjoying it nearly as much as Bella was.

Pulling away, Bella closed her eyes breathlessly, before shooting a look of mock-irritation in Edward's direction. "You're just lucky you made it in time on your last set, otherwise I wouldn't have been so caught off guard. Edward scoffed, scooping up his gym bag and settling his arm across her shoulders. Bella wriggled away immediately, staring disgustedly at the damp shoulder of her sweatshirt. Edward looked at her quizzically, and Bella shook her head. "You stink, Edward. Go shower."

No hurt flashed across Edward's eyes as he stepped in front of her, standing at least a head taller than her. He waggled his eyebrows, his bright green eyes sparkling in the minimal light. The roar of the rock music had somehow lessened during Edward and Bella's flirt-war—as some of the teammates described it, others just called it sexual frustration. Bella's eyebrows pulled together as Edward lifted her chin. "Wanna make it a memorable shower?"

Reaching for the nearest thing, which happened to be a sandal, Bella threw it at his retreating form, hearing his loud, howling laughter echo through the room. "Pig!" she called, though the humor was evident in her voice. She glanced around shyly at the other boys in the room, thankful that they were mostly second-string and that she wouldn't have to treat them later during the season.

After waving goodbye, she stalked away to a series of whistles and lewd comments. She forced her middle finger to stay curled into a ball as she traced Edward's footsteps to the shower room just off of the exercise room. Edward's bag was discarded right outside the door. Warm steam curled out from beneath the door and the hum of running water filled her ears. She reached into her pocket and grabbed her ancient phone, which was buzzing incessantly. Checking the caller I.D., she pressed the answer button, holding the object to her ear.

"What do you want, Em?" she asked, hoping he couldn't hear the rest of the football team's cackles flowing down the hallway. She heard her brother's heavy breathing on the other end and crinkled her nose. He sounded like a prank-calling pedophile. She told him as much.

"Sorry, baby sis, I'm just wonderin' how you're doing." Bella rolled her eyes, leave it to her brother to call her for inane chatter rather than just zap her a text message. She loved him anyway, big, bulky protectiveness and all.

"I'm doing fine, Em…great actually." She leaned against the wall, tucking her opposite hand into the bend of her shoulder and propping a foot against the bricks. She heard Emmett chuckle and mutter something about her usual indecisiveness. "How are you doing, Emmett?"

"Good, Bells. I think I've finally figured out a way to propose to Rosalie and incorporate an audience without big suspicion." She could almost see his beaming grin through the phone. She switched her phone and propped it up with her shoulder as she waited for Emmett to continue.

"Well…" she prompted, pausing again. When her brother made no sound from the other end of the line, she added, "are you going to tell me?" She bent down and hitched Edward's bag up onto her shoulder, stumbling slightly under the unexpected weight of it and mentally trying to remember if he'd carried it on his injured shoulder.

"Sorry, Bells," he apologized slowly, sighing into the phone. "I don't want anything leaked to the media. I want it to be a totally surprise for everybody." Bella rolled her eyes, knowing that her brother didn't think _she'd_ give anything to the paparazzi. As for the bystander that just happened to be able to catch a snippet of the phone call, he wasn't so sure.

"'Kay, Em. I understand." She toyed with the metal zipper on the green bag, her eyes tracing the giant Packer logo across the top. The emblem was random—a big, white _G_ on an oval background of deep green and rimmed in gold. But then again, how do you really represent a Packer?

"Hey, Bells?" Emmett asked tentatively, and Bella's eyes looked up to see a t-shirt-clad Edward emerging from the room. His eyebrows shot up as he saw Bella toting his bag around. She shoved his arms away when he reached for it, shaking her head and pointing at the phone positioned against her ear.

"Yeah?" A heavy exhale flooded into her ear as Edward's fingers tangled with the ones of her free hand, guiding her expertly through the mess of hallways that made up the fitness center.

"I'm okay if you wanna try things out with Edward. He's a good guy." Automatically, Bella's eyes landed on the face of the boy, his skin glowing from the shower and wet, auburn curls clinging to his temples and necks. She involuntarily smiled.

"What changed your mind, Em?" Edward looked back and caught Bella smiling at him. A blush crept up her cheeks, but her gaze remained steady, her heart soaring as a crooked smile adorned his lips. He tugged her up against his side and kissed the top of her head, succeeding in making her feel protected and short at the same time. She fought back a laugh.

"Let's just say that we are more alike than I'd once thought." Puzzled, Bella asked him to explain further, but he brushed it aside, exchanging farewells with her and clicking off, the horrendous dial-tone replacing the comforting sound of Emmett's voice.

"Who was that?" Edward asked, pushing open a door for her that opened to the fenced-in parking lot. The cold, October air bit her cheeks as she situated the bag higher on her shoulder, plucking the keys from the pockets of her jeans.

"Just, Emmett." Edward nodded and lifted the bag away from her and carrying it with his good arm. After Bella popped the tailgate of his car, he slid it into the back and hopped into the passenger seat, frowning. Bella, turning the key in the ignition, noticed this. "What's up, Edward?"

Edward shook his head, looking out the window and turning up the stereo, which Bella promptly turned down. She pulled out of the parking lot swiftly and traced the route to Edward's house, listening to the soft voice of Eric Church through the radio. She turned the dial to the heat up, and Edward lowered it again, grumpily mumbling something about being too hot. Cheekily, Bella replied, "That's because I'm in here." Edward snorted, but made no move to deny or confirm her statement. Bella said nothing after that, pulling into Edward's giant driveway and throwing the car into park.

Leaving his bag behind, Edward strode into the house, leaving Bella sprinting after him. "Jeez, baby, what's wrong?" Edward flew up the stairs and threw himself down against his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Why do you look like a brooding teenager, Edward?" Edward scoffed.

"Why are you slowly taking away my masculinity?" Bella reeled backward. _What_?

"Please, Edward. You are the cockiest, most confident man that I know, and you think that _I'm_ taking away your man card?" Edward grumbled incoherently. "How am I doing that?" Bella sunk down onto the bed beside them, lying down on her back so that their shoulders were touching.

Edward grunted loudly, not bothering to take the arm away from his eyes. "First of all, you're making me where this dang sling that gets made fun of everyday—"

"Baby, it's helping you get better—"

"—and you call me that stupid pet name! We've been together like a week-and-a-half, and you're calling me baby?"

"You don't like when I call you that?" Edward shook his head, releasing a breath.

"Well the innocent way you say it is actually really sexy, but that's beside the point." Bella bit her lip to keep from smiling. Edward was certainly moody when he was tired.

"Mmm…what else?" She shimmied up closer to Edward, resting her head on her chest so she could feel his heavy breathing, his accelerated heartbeat.

"You coach my training sessions and loudly announce that I fail to meet the time limit. You drive my car and mess with the stereo and heat switches. You carried my bag from the building. " Bella wondered if this rant should anger her.

"Yeah, and…?" Edward finally let his arm drop beside him, the limb bouncing around on the mattress.

"Who am I kidding?" he sighed, rolling on his side and taking Bella's face between his palms. His emerald gaze was unsure, bounding between her eyes as if searching for something in the depths. "Everything you do, Bella…it drives me crazy. The way you got me all worked up in the weight room today, the way you countered all my quick comments, the way you bite your lip, hek, the way your brown eyes look innocently up at me through your thick eyelashes—it has me nearly in a frenzy, and…and I just can't deal with the fact that other guys are pining over you…able to kiss you," he pecked her nose gently, "like that. Able to touch you," he trailed his fingertips up and down her arm, making her shiver and closer her eyes, "like that." He sighed heavily, his gaze dropping down to his fingers tracing patterns against the bedspread.

Bella thought his shyness was cute. She liked the blush of his cheeks, the unsure look in his eyes as he poured out his feelings. She bit her lip, realizing that she was probably supposed to say something. As she groped for a reply, all that came out was, "What are you trying to say, Edward?" Edward's eyes snapped back to hers, his fingers fanning out across the small of her back, his breath washing over her deliciously.

His voice was hoarse, strained as he spoke slowly, deliberately. "What I'm saying, Bella, is that…I don't want any other men in your life…in the romantic sense…I want to be exclusively with you, and I want you to be exclusively with me…" He paused as Bella merely blinked at him. "Crap…I'm making it sound like we're owning each other…what I meant was—"

A smile stretched across the expanse of Bella's face. "Yes, Edward, I will be your girlfriend." She felt his body relax as he buried her face into his hair. "But I can't promise that you will be the only man in my life." She felt him tighten against her as she smiled. "Your big ego is like dating another person all together…so I think two Edwards in my life should be enough."

Edward growled before flipping her onto her back and kissing hungrily at her neck. Bella giggled and pushed him away, right as his stomach grumbled loudly. "Mmm.." she mused, "breakfast time for my man?" Edward nodded, grinning at what she'd referred to him as.

"Whatcha gonna make me?" he said, helping her up off the bed. She slid passed him and paused in the doorway, grinning.

"Pancakes," she replied simply before taking off running down the hall, hearing the heavy footsteps of Edward chasing her.

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><p><em>Oooh...Bella decided to make Edward girlie food...bad choice Bella...bad bad choice...And what is this crap about KStew cheating on RPatz...SCREW HER...oh wait...the director already did...anyways...did you like it? Do you want to see more silly, fluffy moments? Did you watch the U.S. Swim Team dance to Call Me Maybe? These are the things I need to know PEOPLE! :) so...review?<em>

_~All My Love...BallinBlonde21_


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